Just a Storytelling Device
by Zoe-eoZ
Summary: Maybe the plot Rory was stuck in currently was deserving of some outward influence altering its course, a storytelling device that would completely unhinge her world, or at least her plans for the night? Jess hoped so, because if not, he was screwed...
1. Chapter 1

_I suddenly had this idea in my head, well, this scene__…_**  
**

* * *

A lot of stories started with the protagonist receiving a phone call that would turn out to be somewhat significant for the plot-development, for the later course of the story. He couldn't help noticing the irony in that. He'd probably have laughed, even—or at least chuckled to himself if his face hadn't been so battered.

He wasn't the protagonist of this story, then. He wouldn't be the one on the receiving end—well, not telephone-wise anyway…

Here he was, half standing, half sitting in a phone booth, trying to avoid shards of glass from the bashed in windows that were littering the ground beneath him, blinding him whenever he tried to focus his wandering stare on them. With one hand he was still trying to staunch the flow of blood that was running freely from that grisly wound which was now thankfully hidden beneath the soaked-through clammy fabric of his shirt. But with his other, free hand he was already grabbing for the receiver.

He was screwed. He was _so_ screwed.

He fought to stifle a cry, making it a clipped sound escaping his cracked lips when he bent forward a little to punch in the only number he could think of dialing at a moment like this. He was only half aware of the tears running down his burning cheeks, but he wouldn't have cared anyways. He felt too desperate, too scared. Too alone. And there didn't seem to be any other option than this call, even though he really didn't want to make it.

He didn't.

But she was his only chance. She had always been his only chance, the one to save him…

Maybe the plot she was stuck in currently was deserving of some outward influence altering its course? A storytelling device that would completely unhinge her world, or at least her plans for the night? He hoped so, because if not—if she just hung up on him again (and could he blame her?) he'd be even more screwed than he already was.

He'd be dead in no time. A thread to her story that had lain neglected for too long and finally been dropped…

It was odd how he heard the tinny beep beep of the line echoing in his cloudy mind and at the same time couldn't, for the life of him, seem to hear his own ragged breathing. Maybe that was because all his senses seemed to focus in on nothing but the tiny world he was holding in his hand now, a world he might just be about to catapult himself back into. If only he could fight the creeping unconsciousness long enough to actually say something.

Speak to her…

"_Mom, I _told_ you I'm already on my way. _With_ coffee. _And_ Chinese Take Out. And a movie—_two_ movies actually, a kind of appeasement policy, admittedly, but still. I'm making an effort here, okay? Please?"_

"Rory?" A whisper. A damn whisper was all he managed to utter. Inwardly, he cursed to himself. Inwardly only, nonverbally, because even that simple whisper seemed to have drained half his remaining strength from his tired body.

Rory… It was so good to hear her voice. And what she said… so her, so Rory. It was only now he was finally hearing her speak again that he did realize how achingly he'd actually missed her. He had to try again. And with yet a little more effort he managed to croak out her name in a somewhat more audible fashion.

"_Be patient. Mom. Please? I shouldn't be more than five minutes now, and yes, I do know I'm late; but you won't hear me apologize for what seems to be the gazillionth time already, alright? I'm coming. And your calling me every other minute won't speed up the process. At all. Rather, the opposite…"_

And suddenly he could hear her think.

Thank goodness.

"—_Mom?..." _He could practically see the frown crossing the otherwise smooth skin of her forehead, could see her pout in annoyance. _"Okay, who is this? Logan, if that's you: not funny. And if it's some weird sicko calling me, let me tell you that I have a very mean boyfriend, meaner mother still, and grandparents that will scare the living daylights out of you if you should even so much as consider harassing me in any form via this phone call! You can keep your heavy breathing to yourself because I'm going to hang up now."_

"No!" he suddenly blurted out, the short word straining him enough to make his lungs feel like they were on fire, causing his breath to come out in a chocked and painful cough. He felt his vision swim and blur, then nearly fade, and it was only the hand clinging to the darn receiver which kept him grounded, helped him hang on to consciousness.

Don't make her hang up, he prayed. Don't make her hang up on me before…

And suddenly he heard the dawning of understanding in her voice as she quietly whispered in an only half believing tone of voice, _"Jess?"_


	2. Chapter 2

_And suddenly he heard the dawning of understanding in her voice as she quietly whispered in an only half believing tone of voice,_ _"Jess?"_

It took just that one word, his name, coming from her lips, to make a tiny smile erupt on his face; and for once he didn't care that it made his split lip hurt, or that he really didn't have a reason to smile. Because now he _had_: Rory had heard him…

-o0o-

Rory had been juggling a whole load of things for a successful Lorelai-Rory-evening only a minute ago. But now she had to fight hard not to drop the precious boxes of food. Unfortunately, the coffee was already decorating the ground beneath her, smelling oh-so-tempting. But a phone call from Jess of all people—and out of nowhere. She hadn't been prepared for that at all; just like she hadn't been prepared to hear the fear she had discerned in his voice.

So much for hurrying to get to her mom… She could so totally not cross the doorstep to her mom's house without coffee, not after Lorelai had had to remind her that the two of them had actually _planned_ a girls' night, a fact Rory had shamefully forgotten to remember over writing a chapter for her thesis and an early dinner with Logan.

"_Rory…"_

The clipped voice jolted her back to reality instantly.

"Jess, hey… I…" She couldn't possibly ask him to call her back another time, now could she? Not after not having heard from him in what felt like ages… Was it that awkward meeting with him, Logan and her, when the guys—

"_I'm sorry, you're probably—Rory, I—I didn't know who to call. I…"_

Okay, this actually scared her just a little: he didn't sound at all like laid-back, self-confident Jess, like himself—or what she had come to associate with him sounding like himself, anyway.

"Jess, are you okay?"

"_I swear I tried Luke first, I didn't want to… bother you. But he's not home, and if he's at your mom's… She never really did approve of me, did she?"_

Rory heard him chuckle lightly, before a cough put a sudden end to it. She was clutching her cell in an iron grip by then, pressing it to her ear so hard that it hurt. But his voice was not much more than a whisper, yet so insistent, and something about that worried her strangely.

"Jess, what's going on? What is it? What—"

"_Guy really needs a cell phone…"_

No, he really didn't sound okay.

"Jess! Focus! What is it that you're calling me about? Just, please, spill it out. Are you alright? Did something happen, did—," she was trying hard to come up with a scenario that might explain him calling her, out of nowhere, sounding… broken. Hurt.

"Are you hurt, Jess? Did something happen?"

An odd sound could be heard, a sound that might have been intended to come out as yet another chuckle. But to her it translated into a raspy, labored breath. Still, it was the following silence that actually scared her the most. Something was definitely off about this call, and it was not the fact that they hadn't heard from each other for too long.

So much for her plans for the night. She would have to call her mom, give her a rain check, deal with her sulking for the next couple days. She would make it up to her later. (She hoped she could. It was still her mother she was doing this to. On a girls' night, too…) Right now, though, Jess calling her seemed to be the more pressing issue. She simply had to make sure he'd be okay first. If only he would just tell her what was wrong.

When the silence was starting to stretch on for too long, Rory went for another strategy, the Gilmore-way to deal with clamped-up people: cajoling them into talking by doing just that: talking. In run-on-lines…

"Okay, Jess," she started, taking the remaining few steps to where she had parked her car. Delicately, she placed the Chinese food as well as the movies on top of it and rummaged through her bag to dig out her keys. "What's wrong? You wouldn't be calling me like that if nothing serious had happened. I know you. You're not that kind of guy, you always keep things to yourself, playing the tragic hero who everyone can plainly see has issues and yet, who is too proud to talk about them. You're that dark, brooding Heathcliff-sort of character. But, see, now that you actually did call me, you could just as well simply tell me why, don't you think? I'm pretty sure you didn't choose this exact time for some small talk—you're not a small talk kind of guy, anyway, Jess, don't think I don't remem—"

"_Shut… shut up, Rory, please…"_

Wait, did he just tell her to…shut up? Good that he didn't see her pout, or he would have started smiling in that way of his...

"Well, I didn't ask you to call, so…"

_"I'm sorry, it's just… I don't have much time, okay? I'd… I'd love to chat, but… I'm running out of… quarters. I need you to help me, please…"_

And that did shut her up pretty effectively. So effectively in fact, that her sudden silence apparently worried him so much that he whispered her name a couple of times.

"I'm—still here. So, um, what do you need my help for, then? Is it your mom? The publishing business, the…"

"_It's… me?"_ His clipped laugh made her cringe, it sounded so terrifyingly desperate. But Jess, sounding desperate—it couldn't mean anything good and it scared her.

"Okay. Tell me where you are," she therefore said, having made a decision. She wouldn't let him off the hook easily now, not without having seen him first, having made sure he was actually alright. She knew what she was doing was stupid. Why was she reading his behavior like a sign for him being in some kind of emergency situation? Why didn't she just wait and let him explain what the hell was the matter with him, why he sounded so beat, why he was calling her of all people, and not some other friend. But then, the matter seemed to be serious enough for him to have tried to reach Luke first. That in itself was probably more telling than anything else.

"Are you still in New York? I could be there in about—" She was checking her watch for the time, just as she heard Jess mutter,

"_Yeah, but…it's not… I"_

"Just give me the address, alright?"

"_M… don't know… unless an… anonymous phone booth counts as an…address…"_

"A what? Why the hell are you calling me from a phone booth? Jess? Okay, where is that—"

"_Stupid, huh? After I griped about Luke still not having a… damn cell?"_

Rory could half see the smile crossing his features, and for one short moment her own face relaxed into a fond and less worried expression. Oh, she had missed talking to him.

She had missed _him_.

"Jess, the address…"

"_Crap, I don't have any quarters left…"_

"Okay… okay okay, can you give me the number of the phone you're calling from?—Jess?"

She was driving way too fast. Her phone sandwiched between her shoulder and her ear, she tried to reach for something to write on, all the while listening to Jess's ragged breathing, and finally: a number.

She scribbled it down feverishly, nearly driving off of the road in the process. Making the brakes screech in protest, she came to an abrupt halt, just as the line went dead.

Her heart was pounding like mad, her hands shaking, her thoughts on overdrive. Still, she _had_ to do two things simultaneously, she had to call him back and continue driving. Something told her this was serious; Jess asking for help, from a phone booth… She had to get to him as soon as possible. She just had to.

"_Hey Rory…"_

She had waited for him to answer her call first before getting her car back in gear. But now that she heard his voice, tired and too quiet for her liking, she forced her car back into the middle of the road, forced it into acceleration, thanking her lucky stars that no one had come by her in the last couple of minutes.

"Now tell me where you are, okay? Just give me the address and I'll pick you up."

She heard his too weak chuckle again, the raspy quality of his breathing getting ever more severe.

"_Does it sound stupid if I say I don't know?... God, I don't even know where the hell I am… I…really shouldn't have called. How are you to…help me, anyway? Sorry to burden you with this… maybe… just thought I might add another chapter to… your story or something, I guess… I'm… sorry, I should have—"_

"Jess." She put as much calmness and strength as she could muster into that one word, forcing him to listen. He worried her terribly. He was definitely not himself, that much she was sure of. What made him behave so weirdly she had no idea. Drugs maybe. Maybe he had taken something… What if he had developed a serious habit? What if… Oh, why hadn't she been there for him, why hadn't he called earlier, why…

But she needed to focus; at least one of them needed to try and do that, remain calm, make sensible decisions.

"Jess… listen to me, tell me what you see, okay? What do you see from where you are? Any street signs? Any prominent buildings? Okay I know we're talking New York here, but maybe there're any stores you can see? Advertisements?"

"_I'm so tired… I shouldn't have called, Rory, it's just, I couldn't call the police, I… still good to hear your voice…"_

The police?

"Listen, Jess, we don't have much time: can you walk?"

"_Nnnah, don't think I can, Ror… lost quite a bit of blood I think"_

"You… oh my God, Jess! You're bleeding? You—oh God. Okay, Okay. I'm calm, I'm focused. Focus Rory!—Are there any people around you could ask for help? Someone?"

"No_!... No…" _He suddenly sounded scared, panicked even. The vehemence behind his denial made her clutch the steering wheel in yet another wave of her own worry.

"Okay. Alright, Jess. We'll… we'll figure something out. I'll… figure out how to get to you, okay? Don't you worry. Just… hang in there, okay? Don't you give up on me, you hear?"

"_I never did, Rory…"_

And despite the dire situation, despite her sitting in a car, driving aimlessly toward the big city, without having called her mom to tell her not to worry, with no clue as to the exact whereabouts of one Jess Mariano, who might be bleeding to death for all she knew, despite all that, she couldn't help but smile at hearing those gently spoken words.

"Then don't you dare do it now… I'm on my way." Sighing, she closed her eyes for one short second, channeling all her strength to do what had to be done. "Listen, Jess, I'll have to end this call now, okay? But I'm going to call you back in an instant, okay? Promise me you'll pick up the phone, then… Jess?"

"_Huh?"_

"Promise me…"

"_Okay…"_

She waited for the sound of one more quiet breath coming from him, then disconnected the call.


	3. Chapter 3

Lorelai was furious by the time Rory finally called.

"_Rory! Where the hell are you?"_ she basically shouted at her daughter once the line connected. When Rory failed to answer, though, Lorelai immediately started a rant that didn't even seem to leave room for a single inhalation. The younger Gilmore briefly closed her eyes, tuning out whichever accusations her mom was throwing her way.

Rory's grip around the steering wheel momentarily tightened even more as she tried to refocus her attention back on the street in front of her. She had finally reached the city limits a few minutes ago, but that also meant she had to pay a little more attention to the actual act of driving now. Which wasn't exactly helpful. Not when she was already having severe difficulties trying not to freak out over the fact that Jess might be bleeding to death in some godforsaken phone booth at that very moment.

"Mom, please," she eventually interjected, her voice firmer than she could have hoped for.

But apparently her mother was not yet ready to let it go then. _"When you didn't call, Rory, I basically climbed the walls here! I had Luke come over from his place because I was freaking out so much! I mean, when you didn't show up… God, Rory, you didn't call again; I couldn't get through to you; the line was always busy. Busy! And how could that be? I was—what were you doing, what… what ARE you doing, Rory? Where ARE you? Why didn't you just—God, you could have been dead for all I knew! What the hell were you thinking, Rory, not—"_

"MOM! I'm—let me say something, please? I—someone called me, okay? Jess called me—"

"_Jess? But, Rory—"_

"Please, mom, don't interrupt me, okay? This is urgent, it's… serious, honestly. I wouldn't have called you so late if it weren't, so please—oh God, I need your help, mommy." Suddenly, Rory couldn't hold off tears any longer. Having heard her mother, the familiarity of her voice, the exasperated anger; all that suddenly made her miss Lorelai terribly.

"He called me from a phone booth," she went on, her voice wavering ever more. "He said he was hurt somehow. He's… something happened to him, mom. He doesn't even know where he is, just that it's somewhere in New York. I'm already on my way there, but…"

"_Okay, Rory, let me—"_

"How am I to find one specific phone booth in the middle of a freakin' urban nightmare like New York, mom? I need to get to him, I need to find him!"

"_Rory—"_

"I'm so scared he might die or something—"

"Rory! Calm down, okay? We'll… we'll think of something, okay? We'll… um…" Lorelai stared across to where Luke was standing, worry edged into his features since his fiancée had mouthed the odd words "Rory," "Jess," "hurt," "in a phone booth," and "somewhere in New York" to him while listening to her apparently frantic daughter on the other end. Lorelai didn't know what to do, or what to tell the girl. If she were honest with herself she just wanted Rory back in Stars Hollow right here at home. Now.

When she remained silent for a second too long, Luke walked over and took the phone from her. She didn't object. It was his nephew they were talking about, after all.

"Rory?" Luke queried, his gentle yet strong voice making even Lorelai feel a little calmer. She hoped Luke would have the same effect on her freaking out daughter. "Listen, sweetie, do you have the number of that… booth?"

"_The…yeah, sure I… he was running out of quarters and I thought—"_

"That's good. Great. Give me that number now, Rory, will you?"

And she did. Without further questioning what he was up to, she trusted him to take care of the situation. She trusted Luke. More than she could trust herself under the circumstances.

"_Alright, I'm going to call the phone company now, and explain the situation"_ she heard him announce. Intently, she listened to each and every word that followed. _"I'm sure they'll be able to locate the exact position of the phone booth once they are given the number. You stay where you are now, Rory, you hear? Go, park your car somewhere and wait; you won't be helping Jess by driving around aimlessly, okay? So just stay where you are until I call you back. —Are the batteries to your cell phone still charged alright?"_

"They were nearly full when Jess first called, so… yeah, I guess."

"_Good, because I want you to call Jess now and check whether he's still picking up. If he's not: immediately call your mother's cell—I'm gonna use the other phone so the line won't be busy. If he is, talk to him a few minutes. Tell him you'll call him back after you heard from me. Tell him help is on the way… I'm going to inform the police as well—"_

"NO!" Rory quickly shouted, her heart pounding with the force of sudden panic at hearing her mom's fiancé mention the cops. She could practically see the puzzled frown surely crossing Luke's brow at her outcry, and understandingly so. But Jess had sounded so scared of the police, and she hurried to recount this to his uncle now.

"_Oh… um… okay," _Luke muttered after having heard Rory explain about her previous reaction, and after a short pause went on,_ "Then… well, I'll have to think of something. But first you hang up now and see whether Jess is still doing alright, okay? Don't talk for too long, though, because I want to be able to get through to you once I got the address. It seems, we'll be relying on you finding him first, then. Okay, Rory?"_

She caught herself nodding wordlessly and had to shake herself out of a strange stupor before she finally managed a verbalized response. "Yeah," she made, the word nothing more than a whisper, which was apparently drowned out by the sounds of traffic for Luke suddenly blurted out a somewhat frantic sounding _"Rory? You still there?"_

"Yes. Yes, I'm here. I'm… Okay, I'll call him now… Luke?"

"_Yes, sweetie?"_

"We'll find him, right? He'll be okay?"

"_He has to be."_

Rory had to swallow back bile once the call was disconnected. She was beyond scared. She was frozen, unable to get her mind to function. Unbidden thoughts of Logan jolted through her head only to be interspersed with vivid scenes in which she pictured herself finding Jess, her once-upon-a-time-boyfriend, lying dead and cold in his own blood.

Dodger…

A half-smile flitted across her face at the memory, paining her more than anything. She had managed to steer her car into the parking lot of some ramshackle restaurant a few minutes ago and was glad not to have to watch the traffic, if only for a while. Thus she could put all her focus on the one thing that counted now: getting Jess to pick up the phone.

She dialed the number with numb fingers, a number she already knew by heart and was sure to never forget again. The number of her life.

Of Jess's life…


	4. Chapter 4

-o0o-

The darkness around him didn't look like ink, or feel like a heavy blanket weighing down on him, making his conscience dwindle. No, Jess couldn't say it did. It was more like a creeping fear dulling his senses, and yet making him hyper-alert to the coldness seeping through his clothes and into his flesh. There was nothing romantic about it, nothing romantic about waiting for Rory to come for him.

But she was coming. She was really coming to get him out of this mess he'd landed himself in. She just said as much, mere minutes ago. She was still forcing him to talk to her, talk about _"anything, anything at all,"_ but even that proved to be too much for him now. His tongue, heavy as lead—or whatever the appropriate saying was, refused to form the words, his mind was blank anyway, and his hand holding the receiver? He risked a glance down into his lap where it lay, far from his ear. And yet he could still make out Rory's voice, or traces of it…

Aw, too bad. He was upsetting her again. Like always; and just like always there was nothing he wished to do less than upset Rory Gilmore. Had to be some severe flaw…

He could tell that she was practically yelling at him, else he wouldn't have heard her at all. If only his body still obeyed him, he'd more than happily talk to her, listen to her voice, even if it carried nothing but anger and disappointment. Yeah, even then…

-o0o-

Ages later; _ages_ later Rory finally directed her car into the street where Luke had said she'd find Jess. And not a second too early for the idiot had stopped responding to her a while back already. She feared to find him unconscious, or worse even. But she didn't allow herself to think along those lines. Repeating her little mantra of "He is going to be alright," she let her gaze wander ahead, sighing audibly once she caught sight of an actual phone booth at the very end. Relieved, she thanked her lucky stars that Luke's plan had worked. She'd ask him later what exactly he'd had to do to get the necessary information. Right now all that mattered was to get to Jess as soon as possible, nothing else.

Rory parked her car, leaving its headlights running so as to penetrate the darkness, maybe even scare away the people Jess had seemingly been so afraid of. After nearly stumbling and falling in her hurry to exit the car and get out, get to him, she broke into a short run, until finally standing right in front of her destination. Only then did she dare put away her cell phone.

She noticed the splinters of glass before anything else.

Almost as instantly, though, her gaze suddenly met his. All she could do for a few seconds was stare, wide-eyed, and hold her breath—just as he could merely stare at her, a weak smile flitting across his face momentarily, more lopsided even than usual.

Jess, she thought, only belatedly realizing that she hadn't called his name aloud. He looked so broken. A dark substance—very likely his blood—was staining his torn shirt, his hands. She saw him still lightly holding the receiver in one hand, while his other arm was loosely draped around his abdomen in a protective gesture. There was blood caking the side of his head, his lips. One of his eyes was nearly swollen shut, giving him the expression of having been on the receiving end in some bar brawl or other.

Well, maybe he actually had, she didn't know that, right?

"Jess," she eventually forced out and lowered herself to her knees in front of him, mindful of the shards of glass littering the ground beneath her. "Oh my God," she made, taking in his state from up close, while he was still only staring at her, an inscrutable expression edged onto his face. Agitatedly, she moved her hands over his body, not sure how best to assess the damage without hurting him too much. "Oh God, we need to get you to a hospital, we—what happened to you, huh? What happened…"

She ran a hand through his hair, let it linger. Torn between fondness and anger, she eventually settled on the former, and placed a soft kiss on his too cold forehead, breathing into his hair.

There would be time for anger later. (Wouldn't it?)

Gently, she then loosened his hold on the phone and replaced the receiver where it belonged. Taking out her cell once more afterward, she announced, "You're going to be alright again, Jess, okay? You're going to be alright. I'll call an ambulance and then we'll get you out of here."

The light touch of his hand weakly grabbing the cloth of her coat stopped her then, making her re-direct her focus to his clouded eyes. For a moment that hand, holding onto her, was the only thing keeping her grounded to reality, preventing her from breaking into hysterics. Until Rory heard Jess quietly whisper, "But they'll _find out_…"

Puzzled, she frowned at him. His dark eyes, though, held no explanation of his ciphered words. "Find out what, Jess? _Who_?" she therefore asked when he failed to say more, her hands cupping his face, imploring him to talk to her. His cracked lips were mere inches away from hers, his breath a too light breeze of air on her face.

"Please, can't you just… bring me—home?"

"Jess! You—I can't do that. Look at you: you need a doctor, now."

"No, Rory… you don't understand…"

"Of course I don't. Do you want me to let you bleed to death after I drove hours to get to you? Huh? Is that why you called me of all people? I don't think so. No, you need an ambulance and I'm gonna call one right now. And I won't discuss this with you, either, you hear?"

Already, she was punching in the three digits, intently staring at him all the while.

But just when she was asked to "state her emergency" Jess, looking even more exhausted than before, fought to get out more of an explanation.

His features torn in desperation, tears suddenly welling in his eyes, his voice nothing but a mere breath, he pleaded, "Please… they mustn't know I—escaped…"

And their gazes locked once more.


	5. Chapter 5

"Escaped?" Rory breathed eventually after utter incomprehension had rendered her speechless for nearly a full minute. And even one single minute could feel like a glimpse of eternity under the current circumstances as Jess had already learned earlier. While waiting for her to come for him…

By now too exhausted to even raise his head, Jess nevertheless managed to keep his eyes trained on Rory's face. He saw her gaping at him, her mouth hanging slightly open. It was the most obvious sign showing how much his words had shocked her. Had it not been for his growing sense of desperation, he would have smiled at seeing her bewildered expression—slightly dumb, yet charmingly cute.

As it were, though, desperation turned out to be a more powerful feeling than amusement. And the one raising the more difficult questions; for how was he to explain the whole god-damned situation to her if he himself didn't seem to know or understand nearly half of it? How was he to tell her that her very own…

Rory's voice, quiet and loaded with fear, pulled him back to the present then. "Escaped from where?" she wanted to know. A heavy frown had appeared on her forehead, and the only thing Jess could think of was that it looked painful. (Don't give yourself a headache, pretty girl. Not over this…)

"From who?" she went on, oblivious of his silent plea. "Who are 'they,' Jess? Please, talk to me. _Talk_ to me…" In her pretty head she was surely already mulling over possible logical reasons for him to have escaped from anywhere—and anyone. But logic had nothing to do with it, had it? Jess closed his eyes for only a short moment, the tiredness and cold making his body sluggish, and his senses, his mind.

Suddenly, he felt her hands come up to cup his face. When he still failed to lift his chin or show any other sort of reaction in response to her tender touch, he found her bending closer to him, bending down until he could look at her levelly, could smell the shampoo in her hair as strands of it softly tickled his skin.

"Jess…"

Insistently, she prodded him for an answer while her hands had gone on to pat him down for the source of all the blood staining his clothes.

"Talk to me. Please. If—if you're not telling me what you mean by 'escaped' I'm going to have to assume that you only chose that word to make me not call the ambulance. Though I don't honestly believe even you would be so stupid—"

"Rory, shut—"

"What? Are you telling me to shut up again? Seriously, Jess?" She sounded affronted, and this time, he truly couldn't stop himself from grinning.

"Love that… look of exasperation, Gilmore. God, I—missed that. I missed you…" he whispered hoarsely, his grin momentarily widening. Until the memories came back…

-o0o-

"Jess!" Rory huffed in annoyance, wondering whether she was more upset about the fact that he dared joke under the current circumstances, or about the fact that his words—spoken lightly and probably without much thought, actually got to her more than they should. (_Love that look of exasperation, Gilmore…_) No time to ponder those words now, though. Not when he was sitting here in front of her, still bleeding, and now even scaring her with his talk of escaping from somewhere. Some_one_… (_I missed you…_)

Shaking her head to banish those thoughts—angry at herself this time, she stared hard at her old friend. "You have absolutely no reason to joke, Jess Mariano, what with the state you're in… So, unless you come up with a very good reason for me to not report this to the police and get you into the nearest hospital ASAP, I think I'll better call 911 again now."

She noticed that his expression had become tense and serious once more. He looked at her, watching as she took off first her coat and then the cardigan she was wearing underneath. It was one of her favorite things to wear, hand-made by her mom, complete with a banded collar and a delicate pattern stitched around the loopholes. Too bad it was white…

But then, a lot of things were too bad that night, right? With that thought she gently pried Jess's hand away from where she had located the main source for all the blood, all the while begging him to open up to her.

"Nnnh, Ror', I can't. Just, please…"

"Jess. You _need_ a doctor."

"No, I'm—fine."

"Don't be so stubborn, Mariano. You're not. I don't know what happened to you, but I do know that you are far from being 'fine.' And if you won't talk to me, then I don't know what I could do to help you. I mean, I can't get you out of here myself. Not when you don't even seem to be able to walk on your own—"

Jess tried to deny the truth of her observation but failed miserably. Even talking had apparently become extremely strenuous by then. So much for walking out of this. Walking away from the truth, or what he knew of it…

At seeing Luke's nephew drop his stare in apparent defeat, Rory's expression softened. "Oh, Jess," she mumbled sadly, lowering her gaze now too, in order to re-direct her focus. With one deep intake of breath she then applied the cardigan to the dark spot which had been half hidden underneath his hand up until then. Not daring to look at it too closely, she gently pressed down on the wound in an attempt to staunch the flow of blood, never once stopping talking to him, holding his bloodied hand to keep him from shoving her away.

She heard Jess stifle a sound of pain. Flinching, she forced herself to ignore it, to continue talking sense into him. "I'm going to call that ambulance now. Don't make me hang up this time, okay? Just—don't."

"No, Rory." His voice sounded hollow, barely audible. "No." Pleading.

She had to ignore that, too. Even though it pained her.

"Don't. Rory…," he begged, scaring her with his intense insistence.

But she had to.

"Hello? Yes, um it's… My friend, he got… hurt, he's bleeding pretty badly. Please, send an ambulance out to—"

Suddenly Jess's hands shot up, grabbing her arm with surprising strength, forcing her to lower it. She fought for control, but already he had gotten hold of her cell phone and terminated the call.

"Jess! For Christ's sake! Are you insane?" she shot at him, really angry this time. Why was he playing with his life, why was he behaving like a complete idiot when all she was trying to do was save his stupid ass?

Why?

-o0o-

Don't make me say it, Jess pleaded silently, praying that there was another way out of this. A way he couldn't see as of yet.

Because there was none.

He stared up at Rory's face, illuminated by the headlights of her car which she hadn't turned off. Strangely he only seemed to notice that now.

He wanted to spare her; he honestly did. But then he probably shouldn't have called her…

"Rory…"

She merely stared at him accusingly, all softness vanished from her features; her eyes hard and unforgiving, daring him to continue.

"If you…let them take me to a hospital they'll have to report me, report _this_—" He weakly took her hand, guided it to where his shirt was torn, his skin ripped apart, raw and open. He didn't even flinch, but her eyes widened once they made contact with what lay hidden under his shirt, under that soaked garment of hers, no longer white by now. Her free hand flew up to cover her mouth, but she didn't say a word. "They'll have to call the cops. It's—a shot wound, Rory… But if they do that, these people will know it. They'll know and..." He didn't even know who he was trying to protect here, Rory, himself, or those people. Who didn't deserve it in the least...

"The police can help you, Jess—they will—"

"No." He shook his head, angry at himself once he realized that tears were starting to force their way into his burning eyes. "They can't!"

"But…"

"I screwed up, okay?" he suddenly blurted out, desperate to make her understand. "I screwed up… I—wrote something and someone got mad, I guess." He chuckled humorlessly, not even bothering to look at her. His head felt too heavy anyway.

"Who, Jess?" A whisper. He felt Rory press her forehead against his and was grateful for the sudden contact, the closeness. Despite himself he felt at least a little more reassured.

He was so tired, just wanted to let it all go. Only Rory's hands on his body prevented him from drifting off right there and then. Only her sweet scent, the touch of her warm skin, the way she said his name…

"Jess…"

He had missed her, really. But this was not the romantic sort of reunion he would have hoped for. Not even the awkward get-together he had pictured in his mind a couple of times when he had thought of visiting his uncle in Stars Hollow again. Unannounced, and out of the blue… Stumbling into her… (Jess, you here?—Oh, hello Rory.—You never called.—I know.)

"Jess, stay with me…"

The beep-beep of a phone reached his ears.

Right. He had to finish telling her.

"Shouldn't have dabbled in journalism." His dry laugh came out as a choked-out cough, rough and tearing at his lungs, at the injury. "They weren't too happy about what I found out…"

"Goddammit, who are you talking about, Jess?" she hissed, and then, not directed at him at all, "Yes, right there; in a phone booth. And please hurry."

He smiled then: that was typical of her, not listening to anyone, or him, anyway. Stubborn little Gilmore girl. Of course she had called the ambulance…

Well, maybe it was for the better, he figured. He was finally losing his battle against consciousness for real, slumping further in on himself, his head now resting against Rory's slender form. Jess couldn't help but feel grateful for their closeness.

"They weren't happy…," he mumbled, no longer too aware of what he was saying to her, or that he was saying anything at all.

"Who? Jess. Who wasn't happy? About what?—Come on. Stay with me, you gotta keep talking, Jess. Jess!"

So tired…

"The Huntzbergers…"

He didn't see the odd expression on Rory's face at hearing that, or hear the gasp escaping her, the vehement exclamation of incomprehension and denial. Just as he didn't feel her arms come around his body and press him to her desperately. He didn't feel her chin coming to rest on his head, either, as she began crying into his hair, rocking them both back and forth.

He merely hung on to that one sliver of a thought as unconsciousness eventually claimed him.

He was no longer alone. He was not alone in this. He had Rory…


	6. Chapter 6

The Huntzbergers…

No.

Rory couldn't believe what she had heard. She didn't understand it either. How could she—if what Jess had said was so… so… Yeah, what? Unbelievable? Cryptic? Disturbing…

_They weren't happy…_ he had said. The Huntzbergers weren't happy, about something he had found out. What could it have been, though? What could have led to Jess's path crossing that of the Huntzberger clan, of her boyfriend's family? And could it really be that they were in any way to blame for what had happened to her ex-boyfriend of high school days?

No. She couldn't believe that, couldn't wrap her mind around what Jess had been implying. That Logan's family had anything to do with… _this_? No; not for the life of her, she couldn't believe it.

That new turn of events forced her to question everything. Everything she had ever thought she knew about Logan, about his dad… She always did know Mitchum was a complete SOB, yes. But he having had anything to do with Jess ending up sitting in a phone booth, with a shot wound to his stomach?

No!

That was simply crazy. But Jess would never lie about something as serious as this. He wouldn't.

Suddenly, Jess's full weight slumped against her, which didn't allow Rory to dwell on her disturbing thoughts for much longer. Automatically, her arms came up to embrace her injured friend as she silently began praying for the ambulance to hurry.

"Jess," she called his name, but he didn't stir. No repeating helped; no angry ordering him to "_Wake_ _up_!" It only took a few seconds of this and his unresponsiveness had reduced her to a frantic, crying mess.

Where were those darn paramedics? Why did it keep them so long? Hadn't she called 911 what seemed like ages ago? It felt like it, anyway. So what was keeping them so long? What…

Only a few hours ago, she had thought she had her life under control! Everything had felt so clear to her then, predictable even; in a good way. Until that call from Jess had messed it all up so completely. Now here she was, desperately holding onto a boy she hadn't given much thought to in the last couple of months; a boy who might have been part of her life in the past, but not anymore. And Logan's family might just be on the verge of turning out to be a bunch of sick mafia-type people…

If only Jess would regain consciousness, wouldn't leave her brooding over what he had said. Wouldn't leave her being scared of losing him.

"Can you hear me; Jess? Jess…please…"

Unconsciously she tightened her embrace until Jess's head came to rest in the crook of her neck. Rocking herself back and forth, she began cradling him gently, his too weak breathing, the too light flutter of his heart the only indicators that she wasn't holding a dead body.

Oh God, how she wanted her mom to be there, tell her it would all be okay again. How she wanted Luke to come and take matters into his hands. If Jess died on her now, she'd never be able to forgive herself. She'd always blame herself for not having done more, for not having gotten to him earlier, or not having called an ambulance sooner.

She'd never be able to look his uncle in the eyes again. Luke, who would be devastated…

"Please… Don't do this to me," she cried into Jess's hair, imploring him to "Open your eyes, please! You can't do this, you can't call me out of nowhere, let me do every possible thing to find your location, drive here, and then watch you die! You can't. You can't say something like that about the Huntzbergers without explaining yourself! You can't! Don't you know how… how _crazy_ that sounded? We're not talking the Mafia here after all. We're talking my boyfriend's family!"

Rory was rambling by then. She knew she was. It was just that she couldn't help herself.

-o0o-

She had no idea how much time had passed when the paramedics finally arrived. All she knew was that Jess was still alive—if barely—and had not regained consciousness. She was still clinging to him when she felt someone gently work to pry Jess out of her grasp. She stared at them with eyes red and puffy. Eventually she let go of the boy in her arms, if reluctantly so… Already she felt alone and empty once she could no longer feel the warmth of his body pressed against hers.

They were talking to her, asking her questions as to what had happened, who the kid in her arms was, all that. She found herself answering automatically, without thinking, without paying any real attention, for all her mind was occupied with was Jess's well-being. All she could think about was his shallow breathing. His shallow breathing and that implicit, yet all the more worrying accusation…

The Huntzbergers.

"Sweetie. Hey… what's your name, huh?"

She stared at the stranger who was reaching down a hand to hoist her up while his partner was adjusting the straps holding Jess's prone form tied to a gurney.

"Rory."

"Good. Rory. Come on up now, will ya, sweetie? You can ride with your little friend here in the ambulance if you want, alright? But you have to get moving."

She nodded dumbly, her hands—slick with Jess's blood—grabbing the paramedics gloved ones. She looked past him, trying to get a better look at her friend as she stumbled to her feet again.

"Will he be okay? Will he…" her mind stuttered to a jarring halt. The man at her side smiled at her sympathetically and patted her shoulder in a gesture she might have called annoyingly patronizing if it weren't for the fact that it was the most reassuring touch she'd felt in what felt like a lifetime.

"Ray, let's get going. Kid really needs surgery," the man's partner eventually urged, sounding impatient, and Rory found "Ray" respond with a curt nod before he grabbed her by the shoulders and basically shoved her forward in front of him.

"Can't make no promises, kiddo, but your friend looks like one hell of a fighter. And the docs over at St. Marie's? One tough crew, I can assure ya. So, no need to lose hope yet, okay, sweetie? Rory?"

"Huh?" she made, feeling incredibly lost and helpless, hopeless even. But she was oblivious to the fact that she looked the part as well.

She heard Ray sigh. Then, suddenly, he stooped forward a little to pick something up off the ground. Only when he placed that item in her hand, forcing her curled up fingers to close around it, did she notice that it was her cell phone. She was so weirdly glad about having gotten it back that she burst into fresh tears just as Ray was helping her up into the back of the rescue van.

"Oh God," she cried, "Can I—can I please call his uncle? Can I…my mom…"

She knew there were rules as to when and where cell phones were allowed and she was pretty certain that you were not supposed to call someone while riding in an ambulance. Still, she didn't know what to do if that guy, Ray, wouldn't allow her to call home.

Forgotten was all previous insistence that she was an independent adult. Because right now she was anything but. She just wanted this all to end. More than anything she wanted her mom.

It took only the slightest of nods from the paramedic and already she was speed-dialing Lorelai's number. Instantly she heard her mother's calmingly sonorous voice answer and it was then that Rory did tear up for real.

"Oh mom…"

-o0o-

"Rory? Are you alright? Is Jess…"

Lorelai didn't even dare verbalize her worst fears. But her daughter crying like that, it couldn't mean anything good. She exchanged a glance with Luke, who was sitting in the driver's seat of his car, with one hand holding the steering wheel in a death grip while juggling a map of New York with the other. A part of her wanted to say, "One of these days even you will need GPS, darling," but of course she didn't utter that thought aloud.

GPS… where had that stupid, random thought come from, anyway?

"Lorelai?"

She stared at Luke while still listening to Rory recount how very close to death Jess had apparently come in the last couple of minutes. How was she to tell Luke that they might not arrive in New York in time for him to see his nephew alive? After all the kid was like a child to him… And Rory, she was so hopelessly fond of the Mariano boy; still. Nothing Lorelai had ever said, nothing Jess himself had ever done had changed that. Not even Rory's relationship with Logan had changed her sense of affection for that kid…

"Lorelai."

"Yuh, Luke," she whispered in acknowledgment before redirecting her attention to her daughter. "Rory—calm down, okay? We're already on our way. We'll be there in no time, I promise."

She listened to Rory babble on as she found Luke grow tenser still beside her. Grabbing his hand in an effort to reassure him, she continued to talk to her half hysterical child in an attempt to calm her, too. But sometimes words just weren't enough. And if things truly did look as bleak as Rory painted them… Well, Lorelai rather didn't want to go there, yet.

"God, I know darling, I know…," she heard herself say when a movement in the rearview mirror drew her attention to the backseat.

"It's going to be alright. Rory—Rory. Listen, Logan is here, too. I'll hand the phone over to him now, okay? He wants to talk to you."

Yes, maybe Logan could calm her frantic daughter just a little, could get any more information out of her. Maybe he could make sense of her clipped and cryptic words. Maybe talking to her boyfriend was what Rory really needed now.

Thinking that, Lorelai was more than a little bewildered at hearing Rory call out one oddly frantic-sounding "No!" as soon as Lorelai mentioned the Huntzberger boy.

Frowning, the older Gilmore locked gazes with an oblivious Logan before her eyes fell on her fiancé again, unable to communicate Rory's odd behavior to him in any other way than with a roll of her eyes.

Had Rory really sounded panicked at learning that Logan was coming to New York with Luke and Lorelai? Or had she merely imagined it?

"Lorelai? Ms. Gilmore?"

This time it was Logan addressing her, and she couldn't help but stare at him in puzzlement and worry…


	7. Chapter 7

Rory didn't want to speak to her boyfriend… Without giving Lorelai any hint as to an actual explanation for her behavior, she simply refused to talk to him. Thus her mother found herself in somewhat of a slight quandary. For how was she to communicate that information to Logan? The two hadn't previously fought or anything, had they?

"Lorelai?"

Luckily, the boy's repeated address effectively prevented her from actually voicing her bewilderment. Surely, outright asking her daughter whether she and the Huntzberger kid had had an argument wouldn't have helped matters at all. The angst-level they all had reached seemed to be quite high already, as it were.

"Oh, right; stupid 'no cell phones' policy. I'm sorry, hun, I forgot…," she began improvising, probably sounding a little too faux apologetic. But only Luke seemed to notice, who gave her an odd look. She answered it with an apologetic shrug of her own.

"Don't worry, darling. I'll hang up now."

"_Oh Mom! Not Logan! Not now! You can't bring him to the hospital with you! He… did you _tell_ him about Jess? Did you—Oh no, but… He _can't_ be coming with you, he…,"_ she heard her child ramble on and didn't quite know what to say. Again, her level of frustration rose as she was sorely reminded of the fact that she wasn't able to pull Rory in for a hug. Or shake some sense into her. For what about Logan coming with them could be bad enough for Rory to be breaking out in near hysterics over it?

"Rory. Calm down. Please—St. Marie's is the name of the hospital, you said? Rory?"

Only once she finally heard her daughter's quiet affirmation some thirty seconds later did she eventually feel able to end the call with one last "We won't be long now, Rory. Just a few more minutes…"

With a sigh, she turned in her seat to face Logan.

-o0o-

Things rushed by him as if they were unreal, or part of a hazy dream; whitish walls, glass doors, people. While a constant dull murmur filled his ears, his eyes were filled with a too bright light. He tried to turn his head, to look for her. But he had lost the grip on her hand a long time ago and was now floating freely in this strange land of half-consciousness and hospital surroundings. He was barely aware of those, though. Everything was only cotton, and pain; and coldness. Now that her warm hand was no longer clasping his, he was actually freezing; and how could that be? The touch—or lack thereof—of one tiny hand surely couldn't have such an effect on his sense of temperature, could it? But thinking about that proved to be too exhausting. So did holding onto consciousness, and looking for her dark head bobbing up in this sea of faceless strangers.

She was nowhere to be seen, and he was drowning. What a brilliant point in time to realize how much he still liked her. No, not "_liked_"…

He was dimly aware of strangers sticking needles into him, shining flashes of cruelly bright light into his already hurting eyes. He heard them talk; whether to each other or to him, he couldn't be sure. All he could make out was nonsensical gibberish.

What he didn't realize, though, was that it was coming from him; a barely audible stream of words that made no sense to the clinic personnel attending to him. (Apart from "Rory," which they deduced to be the name of the girl who had accompanied the poor kid, and who was now standing glued to the door of trauma room II…)

As he was subconsciously fighting them, arms and legs flailing uncontrollably, his glazed eyes suddenly discovered her. Hands pressed to the milky glass of the door separating them she stood as if she had been there the whole time, waiting for him.

And finally, staring at her, he could allow his limbs to rest. She had found him—again. She was still there. "With me in Rockland, huh, Ror?" he whispered and smiled before his eyes eventually rolled back into his head once again and all went blissfully dark around him.

-o0o-

He had said something to her; in the back of the ambulance Jess had said something to her.

Rory Gilmore's fingers were glued to the cool glass pane in front of her. How she wished the doctors would let her into the room with Jess. How she wished to still be allowed to hold his hand; just to make sure he knew someone was there to watch over him.

He had been so afraid.

He hadn't wanted to tell her anything, she knew that. Yet his subconscience had made him say a few more things nonetheless.

"Don't tell them," he had muttered, his gaze too unfocused to linger on her face for longer than a second.

"Tell them what, Jess? Who?" Her question had been quiet, gentle, just like her hold onto his hand. He had squeezed hers, though, with sudden force. A bright fever in his eyes, he had sounded so urgent when he said, "They'll already know I escaped… They have their ways; people like them always have… But," and here he had suddenly tried to lean forward, prevented only by Ray, the paramedic, who had carefully placed a hand on his chest to hold him down. The man had exchanged a meaningful glance with Rory, which she had taken as a cue to bend down over her injured friend until her lips nearly touched his ear. Then she had whispered, "It's okay, Jess. You can tell me. They're not here. They can't hear us." (And God, had she felt oddly paranoid even saying those words…)

The look he'd given her, she was sure it would haunt her for days—maybe even weeks to come. So lost and uncertain; so young. So not like him…

"I'm sorry," he had said, once again. "I shouldn't… he probably doesn't even know, Rory, don't think he does."

_What_, she had thought, _who_? Yet she hadn't dared interrupt him.

"Maybe they were right," he had continued whispering, his ragged breaths coming in quick succession; which scared her. And Ray, oblivious to everything it all entailed, had drawled out a warning "Take it easy, dude."

Rory had known how badly off Jess really was once he had failed to glare at the man in response. Instead he had simply gone on to say, "Maybe I shouldn't… maybe it's for the best if no one ever learns the truth. People only get hurt by it anyway, hn?—Look at me." He had grinned at her then, too weak to chuckle. Rory hadn't thought it a laughing matter, anyway.

Too quickly he had turned all serious again, though, staring at her out of hollow eyes; disturbingly apologetically.

Sighing, he had seemed to be making up his mind, before starting to talk yet again. "In my apartment…," he had begun. Those had been the last words he managed to say to her. In my apartment… He had failed to tell her what in his apartment it was that had made him bring it up in the first place.

Standing in the hallway of a hospital now, waiting for someone to tell her whether Jess Mariano would be alright again soon (or someday, at least, she didn't care; as long as he was going to be okay…), Rory finally made up her mind.

She would find out what had happened to him. She would go to his apartment and search the place until she found whatever it was that he had wanted to tell her. She was a journalist after all; she had to dig out the truth. For unlike authors of fiction—like Jess—she couldn't just let truth slide for the sake of the big picture. Even if it meant destroying everything she had believed in beforehand; even if it meant hurting others—hurting herself—she had to learn and publish nothing but the truth, no matter what.

Considering that Mitchum Huntzberger was head of one of the biggest newspaper companies, he should have known that trying to hide the truth always led to its quicker discovery, anyway.

Watching Jess, lying there, having half a dozen people in scrubs working on him, Rory suddenly bit her lip.

If it had ended in him getting hurt so severely, it must have been a big thing. Really big.

What had he found out? What would _she_ unearth in his flat?

What would it mean for her and Logan?

Logan…

She had barely let the whispered name roll off her lips, when suddenly she saw him enter the hospital's entrance hall, following in the wake of Lorelai and Luke. Luke Danes, who came barging into St. Marie's with such force, such physical presence that he shadowed the younger man's more modest entrance by far…

Yet all Rory saw was Logan, coming ever closer to where she was waiting, watching over Jess. And while Luke was rigidly stalking up to the reception desk, Logan suddenly discovered her. With a worried frown marring his features, he began heading straight to where she stood.

An honest frown, it seemed to be.

Or was it?


	8. Chapter 8

Logan was heading straight to where Rory was standing, waiting, with one hand still holding onto the cool glass window to the room that held her friend; Jess…

An odd nervousness crept up inside of her as she watched her boyfriend come closer, the one person she should be glad to see coming for her. And yet…

He had nearly arrived at her side when suddenly Lorelai wiggled her way past him and threw her arms around her somewhat baffled looking daughter.

"Oh Rory," she muttered into her child's dark head, not letting her go until Logan cleared his throat somewhat noisily and said, "Um, Lorelai? I think Luke could use some help over at the reception desk. He…," his voice trailed suspiciously, making the older Gilmore reluctantly turn her head into the general direction of the entrance area. And behold, Logan had not lied. Obviously, Luke was starting to make a mess of his conversation with the nice little lady she had left him with only a couple minutes earlier. "He seems to have run into a few problems, it looks like…," Logan went on, eyeing his girlfriend's mother apologetically.

"Uh huh, right." Lorelai didn't look happy; at all. Taking in her daughter's rumpled appearance she frowned, gently patting Rory's hair. "Do you think you will be okay here for a minute, honey?" she asked, indicating Logan behind her with a sideways look the boy couldn't see from where he stood.

Rory nodded quietly, her hand still clutching her mother's light coat, giving her the air of a lost child not much older than six, or maybe eight years. It pained Lorelai to leave her again if only for a short while. Yet she knew Luke could not be trusted around the poor desk clerk for much longer. It wouldn't help any of them if he got thrown out of the hospital in the end.

Thus, she shot one more glance at her daughter, feeling horrible for having to leave her alone again, and in the company of the Huntzberger kid Rory had not wanted to meet in the first place. Why, Lorelai still didn't know…

-o0o-

"M-A-R-I-A-N-O. Mariano, Jess," Luke spelled out his nephew's name to the apparently "intellectually challenged" desk clerk for what felt like the hundredth time. "What's so—lady, what's so difficult about that name? I just—I want to go see my nephew now. If you would therefore just—," he felt Lorelai's grasp on his arm and inserted a, "_please_—don't stretch this conversation overly long and let us simply settle that insurance matter. I told you it's fine—_fine_—to put it on my card…" He had to shove his fisted hands deep into his pockets to stop himself from actually attacking the stupid person in front of him, who gave the word dense a whole new depth of meaning.

"Sir, I understand your… disconcertment, but please refrain from raising your voice. We're all under some serious stress here…"

Disconcertment! Again, it was the gentle touch of Lorelai's hand that kept him at least somewhat grounded and prevented him from truly raising his voice. That woman didn't know what she was talking about.

Raising his voice…

He would show her what raising his—

"Luke… let's go," he suddenly heard his fiancée whisper and stared at her somewhat bewildered. At some time during their encounter with the desk clerk, she had apparently taken matters into her hands and settled everything. Luke was left to nod dumbly and follow her, wondering briefly what had become of his usual calm rationalism.

-o0o-

"Are you alright?"

Rory's stare kept Logan at a distance after she had stood rigidly through his previous embrace. She felt sorry for him, she honestly did. It was more than probable that Logan had nothing to do with all this, with Jess, with whatever he had found out about Logan's family. Hadn't Jess even said as much, too? _He probably doesn't know anything?_ Nonetheless, Rory didn't find it in herself to trust him. Not now, not anymore.

"Rory?" He stood there, awkwardly trying to bridge the gap between them, yet failing sadly. She couldn't even bring herself to tell him to leave, couldn't pretend to be angry at him, or to simply be too shocked to react to his presence.

So, suddenly she ran.

She ran, away from trauma room II, away from a startled Logan. She ran past a few startled clinic personnel, past Luke and her mom, who had been on their way to her, past the reception desk and out of the wide open entrance doors. She ran until the cold night air was burning in her lungs, nearly making her gag on her own desperate intakes of breath. Only then did she finally slow her pace, falling into more of an actual walking speed, before she finally stopped altogether. Gripping her head with both hands she allowed her face to scrunch up. Yet this time her stinging eyes refused to release more tears. For now was not the time to cry. She had a task to fulfill, after all. She had to go to Jess' apartment. She had to find his truth. Should he not survive this night, Rory at least wanted to make sure that the truth saw some light. If not tomorrow, then at least the day after that.

(But, Jess was simply not _allowed_ to die. If only he could get that into that stubborn head of his. Just this once….)

Forcing herself to breathe in and out more regularly again, taking long, deep breaths, she eventually resumed her walk with a little more sense of where she was actually headed. Rory would seek out the next bus stop, oh yes. From there it would only be a matter of minutes until she reached Jess's place, and there…

"Rory."

The sudden address made the young Gilmore whirl around in apparent shock. Her face fell as she saw who had come up behind her: Logan, still a little out of breath, yet apart from that quite calm.

"L-ogan," she nearly choked on his name, briefly wondering whether it would be rational to feel scared of him now. Which she didn't.

"Why did you run away just now, Rory? Why… Is there anything I can do? Please, let me—let me help you, Ror. I don't know what happened with Jess, but I'm here for you, okay?" he said. His voice was so quiet. He sounded so pained that Rory couldn't help but realize that her strange behavior toward him had hurt him. Of course it had…

"Logan, I… I'm sorry, but I can't—I can't talk to you. Not right now. I need to…," she wavered, unsure of what to say to him. _Jess investigated some sort of case regarding your family. Apparently he found something of importance, something your family wanted to keep a secret, so they threatened his life and actually shot him…_ Nope, no way could she blurt it out to him like that. Also, there was still that off-chance that he was somehow in on that whole "secret." Even if it was just a very tiny chance…. (Really, Rory couldn't picture Logan acting all Mafia-type person around anyone, conspiring with his family on how best to get rid of Jess Mariano. Though he was far from getting along with Luke's nephew, she doubted that Logan hated him enough to let his family murder him cold-bloodedly. No.)

Having made up her mind she therefore finally began, "Listen, Logan. I don't know if I should tell you this. I don't even know whether I can trust you any longer. But there is something I need to tell you; Jess…" She sighed, desperately hoping she wouldn't have to regret this, for she could really use a little help here. "He told me he was shot because he—Logan, he was shot because he discovered something your family—"

The incongruently cheery sound of a cell phone's ringtone startled them both, making Rory fall quiet almost instantly.

"Excuse me," Logan rasped out. His eyes had widened visibly at the mention of his family mere seconds ago. He was still staring bemusedly at his girlfriend even now that he was fumbling for the offending cell phone somewhere in his pockets.

Rory could only watch as he eventually checked the display. Glancing up again to face her, he said,

"It's my mother…"

Their gazes locked once more.

They waited…


	9. Chapter 9

-o0o-

If this had been an actual story, Jess thought, the plot for some stupid TV show rather than the bleak reality of his life, someone would have completely messed up. Opening his eyes…

… to a middle-aged man fumbling nervously with a baseball cap that had begun to look pathetically out of shape wasn't exactly the kind of scene he'd have liked picturing himself waking up to. Not if this were his story. Then again, what with his usual luck, he wouldn't have starred in any romantic comedy kind of fiction, anyway. In that regard, his current view could probably be considered more than a close second to the prospect of having a cute girl sitting by his side, ogling him worriedly. (Aw, screw him—he was so not successful in preventing Rory's name from popping into his head in that context…)

A very close second, actually, seeing as that middle-aged man turned out to be none other than good old grumpy Luke Danes, his uncle. His favorite family member… (And what had become of the injured always crying for their mamas when worse came to worse? But Liz was not that kind of mother and Jess not that kind of son…)

No clichés for him, then, he figured. Just his uncle; and the dullness of some curtained off privacy of half a hospital room.

"Jess!" Luke suddenly blurted, his voice sounding oddly broken and too loud to Jess's ears. He flinched, unable to stop himself; which seemed to worry the older man. Jess felt the need to apologize. Yet his throat felt sore and the words simply wouldn't come.

"How are you feeling, kiddo?" Luke asked. Creases had appeared on his broad forehead, creases of true and heartfelt… worry. Jess couldn't help but think that there weren't many people he had seen looking at him with that expression carved onto their faces. Only two, actually: Luke—and Rory.

Rory…

It was then that the events of the night finally came back to him with full force. The walk home from work; those conspicuous looking strangers… He felt the pang of the bullet going through his body again, felt arms come up around his, dragging him off. And then…

Rory.

"Jess?" A voice of worry entered his awareness and he smiled awkwardly, trying to reassure his uncle that he was okay now. For the moment; if only he knew her to be safe, too. If only she were here and—

"Do you want me to call the doctor? Is it… are you in—pain?" Luke was obviously uncomfortable around sensitive subjects such as this; pain, fear, most of all: worry—_his_ worry. Awkwardly, he patted Jess's arm, even dared to place one warm, comforting hand on his nephew's forehead for a short while.

Jess looked up at him, his stare boring into Luke unrelentingly. It took him forever to form the words, but eventually he managed to get out one single question. "Where is she, Luke, where's Rory?" he breathed out before the pain returned to the home it had found in his stomach, lodged deep inside of him, threatening to take over his senses again and claim his consciousness.

He didn't get his answer in time, though, didn't get the one piece of vital information he craved so desperately. Out of the corner of his eye—before everything started swimming, blurring, vanishing yet again—he saw Luke pressing the infamous call button frantically. He heard him shout for someone, felt him grasp his arm.

Then his uncle buzzed the call button again… Jess's frown turned into a half-smile as he drifted off once more. So much for the clichés, was his last conscious thought. The "buzzer moment"… If not the girl, he had at least gotten that one.

Which was a start…

-o0o-

"_It's my mother…," _Logan had announced what felt like a lifetime ago.

"_It's my mother…"_

Rory's heart was beating too fast in its cage, her thoughts going a mile a minute, chasing each other.

This felt a little like a showdown; surreal and yet more real than anything else had felt in the past few hours. Rory felt her skin beginning to prickle uncomfortably, the bristling feeling making her feel strangely alive.

Was this it; the call that would end everything? Would Logan—be he involved in his family's dark secret or not—would he give Jess's whereabouts away? Would he give Jess away; give _them_ away? In the blink of an eye everything could change, for better or for worse, she couldn't know. Yet she doubted that Shira Huntzberger had anything good to tell her son; now of all times, in the middle of the night—or did this count as early morning already?

"I have to answer this, Rory. But don't run away again, please, okay? Please…" Logan looked at her imploringly, begging her to stay. How could she do that, though? How could she stay and wait for everything to be shattered by whatever Shira was about to tell him?

Later, Rory would never be quite able to say where her next thought had come from, would never know where her sudden bold trust in him had come from, either. But seeing Logan getting ready to talk to his mom she eventually put all her eggs in one basket, hoping for the best.

"Logan; listen to me! Your family… They ordered someone to capture and shoot Jess, you hear?" she blabbed, continuing without pause, "I don't know what happened, he said he found out something about them, he didn't tell me what it was, though; but they shot him for it! Logan, they _shot_ him. —God, please! You know I would never make up something as ridiculously random as this. Your mother; she might be involved, too! She… They—they are still looking for Jess; he _told_ me. They are… You can't tell her anything about this; please. Logan. You… _can't_… not—not yet…"

Logan stared at her disbelievingly, his frown deepening. As he put his cell to his ear, Rory let out a deflating sigh, her arms growing slack at her sides. She felt so empty, so lost. Jess… What would happen to him if…

-o0o-

"Hello mother. To what do I owe the pleasure of being honored with one of your rare calls?" Logan spoke with a stilted monotone, just as he liked doing when talking to Shira. He knew how much she hated it; and he enjoyed making fun of her annoying obsession with everything regarding decorum, wealth, and social status. Nothing in his voice was giving away anything that had happened in the previous minutes. He could see that his girlfriend, though she wasn't running from him this time, seemed to be more than a little unsure as to what to make of him at this moment. After everything he had just learned he couldn't blame her, really, could he?

"_Logan. Where are you?"_

He raised an eyebrow, catching Rory's gaze as he did. With one hand ruffling his hair, he turned away from her slightly, though making sure not to lose sight of her.

"Why do you ask?"

Rory was fidgeting nervously, and he felt the need to raise a hand in some calming gesture, though he couldn't be sure she'd read it as such. She was so tense; a miracle, really, that she hadn't up and run, yet. Something made her stay… (He dared hope it was he. But all of a sudden that thought actually did seem quite daring; and, strangely, that realization hurt more than Rory's previous running away from him.)

"_Don't stall, Logan. There is no time for you to behave like this; just answer my question."_

He rubbed the palm of his hand over his furrowed brow in an attempt to fight off a beginning headache. This was ridiculous.

"Mother…," he sighed. "I'm—nowhere near home, alright? Is that enough information for you?"

"_No, actually. Logan. Just—could you not act like this? Just for once? Listen… I need you to come home as soon as possible. There is something we need to talk about and I…,"_ her voice was faltering, gaining a strange note to it. Logan suspected she was close to tears. That, now, in addition to what Rory had let on, was indeed worrying.

"Aren't we talking now?"

"_No. I… I mean, _yes_, but… Do you always have to make things so hard for me, Logan?"_

"I can't come home right now, mother. I'm… at Rory's. There's been some family emergency and I don't want to leave her alo—"

"_No! You _can't_ stay with her! You…"_ Now she was crying for real. He could make out her quiet sobs quite distinctly and assumed that she was sobbing right into the receiver. That was so typical; a thing she would do, trying to bribe him into action with her tears… No matter if they were real or fake.

"Alright, mom. This is getting absolutely ridiculous. Why won't you just tell me what's going on, hn? Otherwise I don't see why I shouldn't simply end this call now—"

"_Logan." _Quite startlingly (if you didn't know her, anyway, he thought), Shira sounded all sobered up again, as if she had never been crying to begin with. Her son couldn't help grimacing at the sudden change. _"You will return home. Right now. This is a family matter, a _Huntzberger_ family matter. Let those Gilmores deal with their crisis; we have our own now. Surely, even you do ascribe higher value to your own family than to those—_people_,"_ she said, pure disdain streaking her last words. _"And I will not talk to you about this on the phone any longer. Just one thing, Logan, and listen well: do not mention any of this conversation to your little… _girlfriend_."_

"She has a name, mother. It's Rory."

"_Don't push it, son."_

"Same to you, mother. If you don't make yourself a little clearer anytime soon I don't see a reason why I should head home. I'm sick and tired of going over any more of those trifles you call problems and—"

"_Alright, Logan. You need a little more incentive to come home? Don't say I didn't warn you, though. And if you shouldn't keep your mouth shut about what I'm going to tell you now; if you should go running to your wannabe-journalist-girlfriend with her nosy friends, you can be sure to read _your_ name on the front page of every goddamn newspaper tomorrow; and not in any way you'd appreciate, I don't think."_

_My_ name? Logan wondered, just as his headache started taking on some true intensity. Looking to Rory for some clarification she couldn't possibly offer, he waited for what his mother was going to say next, apprehension setting his nerves on edge.

His name. In the newspapers' headlines. Nationwide.

Because of something Jess had found out?

And had been paid for with a bullet…

"_Logan…,"_ Shira began, then sighed. The line went completely quiet for a while after that, only a gentle rustle of static reaching Logan's ear before life as he knew it finally ended with his mother's next words.


	10. Chapter 10

With bated breath Rory was waiting, counting the seconds in her head. Until they turned into actual minutes; two, three, then five, then… Logan eventually terminated the call with a swift movement of his hand. Tiredly, he turned to face her, his gaze flickering with some indefinable emotion. He had been quiet throughout the whole conversation with his mother, the only discernible noise coming from him a hissed intake of breath at one point. And after that? Silence; a silence so complete that it scared Rory more than any conspiratorial sounding remarks could have scared her—or an emotional breakdown, or the excessive use of expletives, or maybe even a hysterical laugh. With all that, she could have dealt. But silence?

It forced her to wait for a reaction from him that would give her at least an inkling of what had transpired throughout his talk with Shira. She couldn't wait, though, not any longer. She needed to make a decision. Was it safe to stay, or should she run? Strangely, that peculiar feeling of trust still prevailed. Or was it panic that rooted her to the spot?

But before she could even make up her mind as to how to proceed from there, how best to confront him about the phone call, Logan quietly said,

"I'm…" He stopped. Closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose he stood opposite his girlfriend. He started shaking his head before he erupted into sudden humorless laughter.

"Logan?" Rory whispered cocking her head in a show of worry, her hands fidgeting uselessly in front of her.

When Logan looked up again, he was smiling.—He had never looked more distraught; lost, even. Rory felt a pang of sympathy, although she didn't even know the reason for his apparent distress. She didn't know anything anymore.

"This is… this is unbelievable. Seriously; it's—hilarious, come to think of it."

"What… what is, Logan?"

"You won't believe this, I'm—God, Rory, I'm… _crap_…" His voice broke, as he let his shoulders sag. "And to think that they even went as far as… as trying to _kill_ for it to remain a friggin' secret!"

"God, Logan, you're scaring me! Please, what did she say? What happened? Why… is Jess…," Rory tried to put all her questions into actual words, but all she could think of—all her mind was suddenly capable of was thinking of Jess in the hospital. For hadn't Logan just confirmed that his family had indeed tried to kill him? Jess.

What if they'd try again? What if he still wasn't safe? What…

The blonde boy in front of her wasn't smiling any longer, only pain now etched onto his face, and utter disappointment. (Aimed at his family, though? Or aimed at her? Rory couldn't help but flinch at the possibility.) They stood there, facing each other; too much space between them and at the same time not nearly enough as she pleaded, "Talk to me, Logan."

Finally, he did.

-o0o-

Drifting back to consciousness, the first thing Jess noticed was Luke's absence. Even before his vision had cleared sufficiently enough for him to make out the different shapes in his room he was acutely aware of his uncle's missing presence. It wasn't all that surprising really. After all, the man had always been a force to be reckoned with, his mere presence in a room resulting in a complete change of atmosphere. Right? (Jess surely wasn't the only one always getting that impression, was he?) With the realization of being alone again came a sudden severe sense of insecurity, though, a feeling that refused to be ignored. He just couldn't help himself. The events of the night had shaken him worse than he'd have ever thought possible. Because, being shot… over a story?

With a sudden pang of guilt he thought of Rory. Rory, who was involved in all that crap now, too. He shouldn't have dragged her into all of this. Not her. He should have refrained from calling her. He should have plucked up enough courage to call Luke instead. No; better still, he should have called the police and let them deal with the matter. Because you don't do this to the people you love, you don't put them in danger, you don't…

Jess was still debating with himself when he heard quiet voices talking somewhere in the hallway. He tensed, the sudden movement jarring his wound uncomfortably as he fought to sit up. He had to stifle a sound of pain as his body protested against the change in position. But he couldn't just lie there and wait; not if he couldn't be sure whether they mightn't still be coming for him. (He bet on it that they were. For hadn't the Huntzbergers already proved that appearances were everything to them? That they would fight tooth and nail to protect theirs? Exactly.)

Once he could finally make out who was talking his muscles relaxed again, thus allowing the pain to subside back to its previous level. Luke and Lorelai; and—if he wasn't mistaken—Emily Gilmore. Though, could it be? What in the world was Rory's grandmother doing here if it wasn't for the fact that…

… Rory was somehow in danger…

Something in Jess suddenly went on autopilot. Fumbling for the IV, he ripped it out unceremoniously, barely aware of the trickle of blood running down his arm in the process. Absently, he wiped at it with his other hand before beginning to hoist his legs out of the bed. That did not prove to be his smartest move, though, for he had to pay for it instantly when a tearing feeling ripped through his stomach. Doubling over in agony, both arms now wrapped tightly around his abdomen, he couldn't stop a grown from escaping him.

"You all right in there?" Though the new voice startled Jess, his current state prevented him from moving into action, or even come up with some sort of answer. With closed eyes he tried to breathe through the pain.

"Hello?" At least it finally registered with his brain that 'that voice' was merely the guy he apparently shared the room with. No imminent danger then. (Aside from dying of too much pain, anyway…) "Want me to call the nurse?"

That, finally, had him bite out one quick "No!" Not the nurse, no added attention when he was trying to listen in on the conversation outside; when he was trying to find out Rory's whereabouts. When he was trying to sneak out of the damn hospital... (He'd better work harder on the sneaking out part if he ever wanted to succeed…)

"You sure, man?"

"Yeah. Thanks. It's—all good."

It took him awhile, though, before he could muster up enough strength to straighten up again and eventually even put some actual weight on his feet, not to mention walk to the door. Once he reached his destination, he had to lean heavily against it in order to stay upright, for his legs were suddenly feeling all wobbly and weak. But he was rewarded for all his efforts when he heard Emily scold her daughter loudly,

"_How could you leave her out of your sight, Lorelai? Don't tell me she left the hospital while you were standing only a few feet away, watching!"_

"_I wasn't _watching_ her run out, Mom!" _was Lorelai's furious reply. She sounded extremely upset.

"_Have the police been informed? Can anyone tell us what exactly happened?"_

"_Mom…"_

"_Lorelai. Is Rory—what if those—_criminals_ go after her now?—I need to inform Richard; maybe if he calls Sterling.—He is head of the police department after all…"_

Jess tuned out then. He had gotten all the information he needed. Rory had left the hospital. And he had to find her…

-o0o-

"I'm not a Huntzberger."

There. He had spit it out; the big secret. It sounded simple, really, if you didn't think about the actual implications twice…

"Wha—," Rory couldn't even finish that one exclamation as it got stuck in her throat halfway, her incomprehension evident. All of a sudden, the air seemed to lack a sufficient amount of oxygen as she struggled to take a deep breath.

"I know," Logan muttered, clarifying, "But it's true. I. Am. Not. A Huntzberger. I'm not Shira and Mitchum's son, I'm not…"

… a Huntzberger, Rory completed mentally, not yet able to grasp the meaning behind those words.

Logan smiled then, a dismayed expression, so full of incredulity and pain.

-o0o-

Luke gently loosened his reassuring grasp on Lorelai's arm and quietly excused himself. "I'll just step in to Jess's room and check how he's doing, okay?" She looked at him, huffing, her expression that of a small child rather than that of a grown up woman. He sighed. "You heard the police. We can't do anything. It won't help Rory if you run out and roam the streets as well now, Lorelai."

"I know," she only muttered, without the typical wordy Gilmore-rant to follow. Luke knew it to be a bad sign. Apparently his fiancée was beyond worried about her daughter's sudden disappearance in the eye of some unknown danger. And Emily Gilmore had made matters worse by once again succeeding in making her daughter feel more upset than circumstances would have made her feel anyway. What with Rory having gone AWOL and them not knowing what had led to Jess having been shot, she had been in somewhat of a state beforehand. Now, though… He didn't even remember how that woman had gotten wind of the goings-on in the first place; but she had arrived at the hospital all too quickly; of that he was sure.

He dreaded leaving Lorelai alone in this state for even one second, yet unfortunately he also couldn't stop worrying about his nephew. Then there was Rory… Having three people to worry about, it was a new experience for Luke, and none he liked too much. Opening the door a little to his side, he stepped into Jess's room, instantly noticing that something was off. His gaze fell on the rumpled sheets almost at once, wandered to the abandoned IV, until he caught sight of the most disconcerting detail in the room, an open window. It took him a moment to put two and two together, but his feet were quicker than his brain and had taken him straight to the window in two seconds flat. How could someone have managed to open it? How could someone have climbed in—and out of it without alerting anyone to their presence? How come _he_ didn't hear anything?

Dazed, he turned to the bed again, unconsciously clenching his hands into tight fists. This was not happening. Jess couldn't possibly have been kidnapped while Luke had been standing mere feet away; he couldn't…

Then Luke's gaze found the abandoned hospital gown. Slowly taking it up, he immediately noticed the blood staining its front. Positioned right where Jess's shot wound had been… Luke's face fell.


	11. Chapter 11

-o0o-

He had to find Rory. But where? Where was he to go looking for her in that darn maze of a city? She could be anywhere, really; anywhere. And he—he was still only minutes away from the hospital, with Luke surely already breathing down his neck. (If he knew his uncle at all; and he was positive that he did.) Stopping to allow himself to rest for a moment, he noticed a woman throwing him a furtive look before hurrying past. He couldn't help but roll his eyes. So much for all his efforts…

Jess was trying so hard not to draw any attention to himself. He was trying to walk at a normal pace and not let it show that he needed short breaks every few minutes because his legs threatened to refuse carrying him any farther. He also tried to cover the slowly growing stain on his shirt front; and _still_ passersby looked at him curiously. (Like that woman just now, who had probably taken him to be a shady figure like some kind of drug dealer or other.) Luckily, it was a big city. People mostly decided to mind their own business most of the times and thus, Jess was pretty much left alone. Surely, he was deemed odd. What with him wearing a few items of ill-fitting clothes salvaged from his roommate's wardrobe—no shoes, it was hardly surprising. Yet so far only one guy had actually dared ask the ruffled looking boy, "Are you all right, kid?"

A sweet and slightly deranged smile had nearly been enough to convince the man that Jess was indeed quite "all right;" if not in the head. His following slurred remark did the rest and basically sent the poor guy hurrying away. Jess almost felt sorry when he opened his mouth to say, "Your clothes… They look so fitting, and smooth… May I touch—"

By then the man had already gone on at more than a slightly accelerated pace. It would have been funny, really. But Jess was in no mood to feel amused. All he could think of was how unlikely it was for him to actually find Rory.—Not only because she could be anywhere and nowhere, but also because his friggin' lame walking attempts were slowly, yet progressively taking their toll on his condition. He had begun to feel annoyingly woozy again; nauseous as well.

But he had to disregard all of that if he wanted to continue his search for her. She was all that counted, anyway. Besides, it was he who had put her in danger with his idiotic call for help. It should be him to get her out of that situation, too.

Trying to think what sort of Gilmore-logic would be working in the pretty girl's head he eventually had an idea where to go looking for her. He only had to pray that what little strength he still had wouldn't leave him before he'd reached her…

-o0o-

_Not a Huntzberger…_ What was that supposed to mean?

"But, Logan," Rory began, words failing her instantly as she tried to wrap her mind around the new piece of information. It was far from anything she would have imagined being the Huntzberger's well-protected secret. Involvement in some shady business or other, yes, she could have pictured that; anything to do with Mitchum's business empire, actually. But Logan not being the Huntzberger's child? Could it be that she had somehow misunderstood him? Could it be…

"God," Logan raised his arms in a helpless gesture, smiling his upset smile again. "Doesn't this sound stupid? I mean… does this warrant shooting someone for it, for God's sake?"

"Logan…" Automatically, Rory stepped up to him, but he motioned for her to stay back and increased the distance between them with another few steps backward. "I—I can't…" He pressed both heels of his hands into his eye sockets, making his disbelief and distress even more palpable to her as she helplessly watched him. She felt the urge to comfort him, but couldn't. He didn't allow it, and she was no longer sure enough she knew him at all to impose herself on him that way.

"You know what she said?" Suddenly, he locked his gaze on hers again, his unwavering stare making her feel strangely queasy.

"What…"

"God, I—I'm sorry, Rory, but… I don't… And here I should be glad that finally I know for a fact that that failure of a father is not related to me! No more worries that I might one day turn into one of _them_," he spat.

"Logan. We'll—"

"Shira Huntzberger is a woman with very serious problems, Rory. You don't really want anything to do with her," he spoke over her, enunciating every word with care. He shook his head. "Do you want to know what the big secret is? You're going to like this, Gilmore. After all, what could be bad enough about the whole… _affair_ for the noble Huntzberger clan not to parade it as a pure act of good will—you know, saving a poor child from ending up without a family to support it?"

When Rory failed to come up with anything to say, he simply nodded and went on. "Exactly. And that's because it was no such thing. Instead, Shira pretty much stole me from the crib."

Rory's felt her eyes bulge as she tried to process the meaning of his words. Something in her finally seemed to start working again as she took a couple of steps forward and thus allowed for Logan to place his hands on her shoulders. She could discern a somewhat triumphant expression on his face as he lowered his head a little to look her in the eyes.

"Pathetic, huh? The Huntzbergers, involved in some full-on tabloid-worthy drama…"

"But, Logan. What they did to Jess—"

"I know!—Listen. I… I have to go back home. I have to talk to them—and hopefully talk them out of pursuing your friend any longer, okay? Rory, I'll need you to inform the cops, work your magic, whatever. Okay?"

She could only stare up into his eyes as he cupped her face with both hands. Strangely, there was no love in the look he gave her, just fondness. Heartfelt fondness, but still…As that sudden realization hit her, she already knew that that infinitesimal difference meant all the world.

"Please, Rory."

"Okay, I'll—I will…," she stuttered, her usual gift of the gab still completely evading her.

"I'll need you to help me figure out a few things first, though. See, Shira, she wouldn't tell me anything about…"

"Your real parents," Rory whispered, something in her brain suddenly starting to work again.

Logan nodded. "And call me stupid, but something makes me doubt they'll be very forthcoming about disclosing their identity anytime soon if they can still prevent it."

The whole truth dawned on her, then. Closing her eyes for a second to think, she finally lifted her head and once more stared straight up to the blond boy in front of her. "It's what Jess discovered. You not being a Huntzberger, I mean; the whole story about how Shira came to take you out of your crib and claim you as her own… He probably found out your real parents' names as well," she concluded. With a stab, her fears for Jess returned. Maybe she shouldn't have told Logan what little she had deduced from what first Jess and now he had told her. Even if apparently, he had not known anything about his parents' doings, it didn't necessarily mean she could trust him with Jess's life. (She shouldn't have…) But Jess was safe at the hospital. He had to be, with his uncle probably hovering beside his bed 24/7, never once leaving him out of his sight.

Therefore, she decided it was the right thing to finally take action and help publish that story for which Jess had nearly given his life. Straightening her shoulders with renewed vigor, Rory wiggled out of Logan's grasp, and, taking her previous trust in him one step farther, asked him to follow her as she turned to resume walking.

"Come on now, Logan.—Jess, he told me something, back in the rescue van," she called out to him as he fell into step with her, eyeing her curiously. "I'm sure he found out what exactly happened back then. Why else would they have… you know…"

"—Tried to kill him? Just say it, Rory. No need to spare me. It's not like we haven't already talked about it. Hell, it's not like we didn't know how crazy they can get _before_, right?"

Yet he looked at her with disillusionment written all over his face. She couldn't help but grab his hand and squeeze it briefly. They exchanged a glance then, feeling strangely awkward, and let go of each other's hands almost simultaneously.

"Yes," Rory mumbled without acknowledging the awkwardness. "Anyway, Jess wanted to tell me something about his apartment—or about something _in_ his apartment, more like. He never got to finish talking, though, so…"

"So?"

It was stupid really, Rory scolded herself. How a part of her had prayed for him to be able to get her meaning without her having to voice it. Something in her had hoped he'd be able to finish her sentence for her, just like that. Just like…

… Jess would have been able to.

Logan, though, completely oblivious to that particular thought process of hers, failed to guess what she considered to be obvious. Sighing, she said, "We're going to his place, of course."

And so they did.

-o0o-

Sitting on the couch, the hand still holding the receiver lying in her lap as if lifeless, Shira eventually looked up to where Mitchum stood looming over her, scrutinizing her.

Raising his chin, he eventually turned around to face the man kneeling behind him, eyes set on a screen positioned on the coffee table. "Crawford?" he queried, making the man look up from his work, eyes gleaming with the light coming off of the screen.

"We got him, Sir. Tracked him; that call was long enough."

"You know what to do?"

"Yes, Sir.—I'll tell my men to take care of it."

Shira sat there, motionless. She eyed the men without taking part in their little exchange. She simply let it happen; let it all happen. "Good," she heard her husband say and stared up at him again. He was smiling at her briefly, no real emotion evident in the expression.

She had made that call without complaint. Because she knew that, eventually, Logan would understand; he would never abandon her. And because despite everything, she owed Mitchum; for having saved her back then. For having taken matters into his hands and having settled everything. For having allowed her to keep Logan and raise him as her own; _their_ own.

For having silenced all those who had known—and for still cleaning up behind her whenever it became necessary…

… like now…


	12. Chapter 12

-o0o-

Lorelai Gilmore sat watching her fiancé and her mother talk to some too old looking police officer. She frowned. Should someone that old really still be working? She knew the thought was random, just as she knew that the officer was more than likely very good at what he did. But this was Rory, her daughter—the person she cared most about in her life. Clenching her hands into tight fists, she forced herself to calm down visibly enough to be allowed to participate in their conversation again.

She shot a sideways glance up to the gorilla of a female officer standing next to where she sat on one of those uncomfortable plastic chairs. The woman had been ordered to guard her after what Lorelai had to admit could be called a slight slipup on her part that had happened only a few minutes ago. Then again, the grandfather-type policeman shouldn't have told her to "Take it easy, Ma'am." Even the mere memory made her angry all over again. But no; she had to refocus on remaining calm. She had to continue pleasing Gorilla Woman with her best possible impersonation of a reasonable grown-up. Maybe that way the old hag would allow her to walk over to the little group and listen to them talking about how best to proceed. Lorelai wanted to hear what was done. She wanted to hear _that_ something was done and she _needed_ to be a part of it. For what if something should happen to Rory out there, roaming the streets of this hellhole of a city, when there was someone after her? What if something happened to her while Lorelai sat there, like a child who had been grounded by her parents?

With Jess having gone AWOL to boot, there was now no one left who could explain any of the things that had happened during the night. Lorelai had no time to image more horrible scenarios as to what could have initially led to the current disaster, though, for suddenly Gorilla Woman grew tense at her side. A split second later Lorelai knew why when she heard Luke's voice turn into a roar.

"MY NEPHEW IS OUT THERE, BLEEDING TO DEATH—MY DAU—"

"Mr. Danes, please—"

"MY FIANCÉE'S DAUGHTER IS OUT THERE! AND YOU ARE TELLING ME THAT THERE IS NOTHING MORE YOU CAN DO THAN SENT A SEARCH PARTY OUT FOR THEM? A _SEARCH_ _PARTY_?"

A sudden odd calm came over Lorelai then. Although the police had apparently failed to come up with any real strategy on how best to handle the case, although all the talking that had gone on without her had not been any more helpful than the few useless details the officer had presented them with before Gorilla Woman had bodily sent her off to the sidelines, Lorelai felt calmer, peaceful even.

Luke had meant to call Rory his daughter…

-o0o-

The apartment lay in total darkness when Rory and Logan finally got there. Yet of course that didn't necessarily mean no one else had thought of searching the place before them. Besides, Logan pondered, you didn't actually need artificial light to search for someone or something now that daylight had completely replaced the haziness of dawn. Cursing as he saw Rory already moving to open the door, Logan quickly grabbed his girlfriend's arm mid-air, effectively stopping her from proceeding. "Wait," he hissed, ignoring the annoyed glare she shot him. He allowed her to pull her arm away, pained to see her expression turn angry, wary even. (Did she start doubting him again?)

"What?" Rory mouthed. Logan flinched at her apparent anger, anger directed at him. Suddenly, and quite incongruously, he started to wonder whether that was it, the one thing that would destroy their relationship. The damage done seemed too immense, even if through no fault of theirs… But his family was responsible for Jess's current condition. In some screwed sense Logan himself was responsible for it. And Jess—though Logan had tried so hard to deny that fact all night—Jess was still his girlfriend's friend. He looked to the ground momentarily, as if staring at the tiles might help him refocus, and lifted his gaze to face the young Gilmore once more. Rory stood there, a dark silhouette against the walls. She seemed tenser than before, but he couldn't tell whether his previous actions had been the cause for that. Maybe the sudden proximity to the already half-revealed truth about the oh-so-noble Huntzbergers made her as apprehensive as himself. He couldn't be sure. "Let me," he said. Waving for her to step behind him, never once able to slough off the attitude of a gentleman, he cautioned her, "What if my parents' goons are still around here somewhere… come here…"

She didn't argue, for which he was grateful. If anything, he at least wanted to make sure she'd be okay. And so he pried the door open as quietly as possible and led the way inside.

-o0o-

With a sigh, Rory complied to Logan's heroism, allowing him to enter the apartment first. Following immediately in his wake, she didn't wait long once she saw him step into the half-darkness of Jess's flat, though. A part of her still doubted she could entirely trust him with whatever Jess had found out. What if Logan got to his research documents first? What if he found out what Jess had fought so hard to keep from the Huntzbergers throughout the whole ordeal they had put him through? Rory bit her lip. Thinking about Jess made her knees feel weirdly wobbly; the memories of all the blood, his blue tinged skin, that lost look on his face…

Suddenly she remembered the lonely boy she had seen in him all those years past when first he had entered her life displaying the cocky, careless attitude of an arrogant jerk. And she had believed his show, though only for so long, wondering about angel-headed hipsters, cool cats—and above all, Charles Dickens…

Unfortunately, all that was left of those bygone days was a peculiar sense of forlornness, of regret. Why had she never tried to confront him when first he stole his way into, then out of her life? Why had she let him escape, let him hurt her so much? And why did he still hold so much power over her that all she could think of now was Jess Mariano?

All the blood, the light tingling feeling of his breath on her face, the touch of her lips on his forehead…

"Rory." Logan's whisper jolted her back to reality before her memories could weigh her down any further. Turning toward him, who was currently searching Jess's desk for any useful scraps of information, she went across the room to likewise search a corner of the spacious apartment.

The place looked barer than she remembered, not allowing much room for hiding secrets. Then again, this was Jess's apartment. He would find room to hide something practically anywhere. Even here. She only needed to look closely enough; and she needed to do so fast.

She hadn't gotten much farther than the kitchen, when suddenly she heard a creaking sound somewhere to her left, coming from the entrance. Rory shrank against the fridge, trying to make herself as invisible as possible. She couldn't help but think of the Tell-Tale Heart as she stood waiting, listening to the loud beating of her heart which was threatening to give her away.

"Logan?" she dared whisper, wanting to make sure that he was still out there, still with her. But she didn't get an answer. "Logan?"

And what if the "goons" had indeed come back, what if they had come to get her, too, silence her as they had tried to silence Jess. All without her ever having learned the whole truth about Logan and his screwed up family.

Suddenly, she saw a huge shadow creep toward her from the doorway of the kitchen, and her throat tightened painfully, making it hard for her to breathe. Panic rose within her, as her hands groped for a weapon somewhere behind her back. If only she could open one of the cupboards and retrieve a knife…

She had only gotten so far in her musings about what to do should the newly arrived presence honestly attack her, when all too suddenly the light in the kitchen was turned on, killing even the too small shadow she had been hiding in. As the light revealed her to the newcomer, all she could see was a tall and brutish looking man standing only a few feet away from her, a living cliché of a goon, really. Rory couldn't help but grin stupidly at finding herself stuck in such a ridiculously standard situation, when suddenly, she noticed Logan come up behind the man, holding some kind of baseball bat, ready to strike.

It could have been a clear case. All could have gone smoothly from there, Logan defeating the stranger, saving Rory from harm… They could have gone on searching for the truth…

… Right then, though, right when Logan stood poised behind the man, holding that bat, swinging it above his head, the stranger raised a gun, so quickly Rory wasn't sure she had actually seen him do it, and aimed it toward her, shooting.

She heard a numbing, ear-splitting sound before she even saw the man move to shoot.

The following second stretched on longer than any Owl Creek Bridge one could have done, and her gaze locked on Logan's briefly. Strangely, she heard him call her name, then, sounding all too much like Jess.

"Rory?" he cried, as she noticed her knees give way beneath her, and in a whirl of air, she felt something weigh her down, force her to the ground, Logan's stare all the while boring into her.

"Rory…"

Her eyes, dark and wide, searched his. Her fingers clenched into his shirt.

"Jess?"

* * *

_[references: _An Occurrence at Owl Creek Bridge_ by Ambrose Bierce, _The Tell-Tale Heart_ by Edgar Allan Poe, "Howl" by Allen Ginsberg… and... Charles Dickens, of course…]_


	13. Chapter 13

_Her eyes, dark and wide, searched his. Her fingers clenched into his shirt._

"_Jess?"_

Everything happened in a blur. The shot, the fall, the strange sensation of someone else's weight crashing down on her, and then…

Jess's flushed face appeared right over her as he hoisted the dead weight off of her. It turned out to be the stranger's lifeless body. With a startling sense of fascination Rory hefted her gaze onto the hole that had appeared in the man's throat and which was spurting unimaginably high amounts of blood. That shot…, Rory wondered. She allowed her eyes to wander away from all the blood and to the gun that dangled uselessly in Jess's grasp now. But she never got to the end of her thought for Jess suddenly bent down to touch her brow and his worried voice penetrated the eerie silence the shot had left her in.

"Oh crap. Rory… Are you… are you hurt? Did I—crap, did he hurt you? Are you…" Jess knelt down right next to her. Briefly, his hand flew to the tender area at his side before he moved to gently cradle her shaking body in his arms. "Rory…"

Her eyes fluttered open then closed as her mind tried to catch up with the fact that she was still alive. The shot she had heard, it had never reached her. The goon never found the time to shoot her because he had been shot first—had been shot before Logan had ever gotten the chance to strike him with that baseball bat…

Staring up into Jess's handsome face, Rory couldn't _not_ frown. Her bewilderment evident, she eventually raised a hand to touch his cheek. (So startlingly cold, and yet so alive…) She couldn't believe what she saw; him, there, with her. Even the slowest and most sluggish part of her brain had meanwhile caught up with the fact that she was still whole, unharmed. And yet she couldn't make herself move to get up. She couldn't force herself to wiggle out of his strong embrace, out of the warmth that was Jess.

Finally, after what seemed like forever, she whispered his name once again. "Jess…"

He smiled. And the shiver raking through her body increased momentarily.

-o0o-

Finding Rory had proved to be ridiculously easy, Jess thought as his gaze held hers. Of course she had gone exactly where he had known she would in the first place; to his apartment. To his place. Really, it was just as if the person writing their story was trying real hard not to fall for all the clichés lurking in the shadows of any story involving a guy and a girl and still horribly failing. Smiling down at her, he didn't mind, though. If it meant that he got to save the girl… If it meant that he got to save her and hold her in his arms? Anytime; he thought. (Though a story about a guy and a girl… wasn't that just another all too overused cliché in and of itself?) Shaking his head to clear his mind, he found that he was feeling considerably shaky himself. But there was no time for weakness now, not when Rory needed him, not when the goon might have hurt her. He was just about to gently move his hands over her body so as to find out whether she was still in one piece, when out of the corner of his eye he saw someone enter his field of vision.

Quickly, he managed to jump to his feet, ignoring the protesting screams of pain in his side as he was forcing Rory up with him. Her arms came up around his waist. In an effort to steady herself, she held on to him, the contact strangely reassuring him as well.

"Jess," she hissed, just as he realized who the new person in their presence was.

"Huntzberger," he muttered, eyeing the blond kid warily.

"Mariano." Logan was holding the baseball bat Jess had gotten for his 7th birthday. Or was it his 8th? Either way, it had been a present given to him by his uncle, and weirdly, he couldn't quite quench a tiny flicker of anger at seeing someone like—"that guy" hold the bat now. One last reasonable part of his hazy mind ordered him to not lose it completely, to hold on to reason and fight those obvious signs of delirious thinking. (But it was so incredibly hard, he noticed, and not even Rory's close proximity, her smell, her touch, seemed to be enough to keep him grounded any longer. Rather the opposite…)

-o0o-

"Oh my God, is he dead?" Rory whispered, her fingers clenching around the cloth of Jess's shirt. "Did you…" She didn't dare finish the sentence as her eyes wandered from the body on the ground to Jess, then to Logan. It took her a moment to realize the awkwardness of their situation. Logan and Jess; together, in one room—the one, a Huntzberger, the other, the guy who was threatening to bring about the fall of the Huntzberger clan…

And if that wasn't classic tragedy for you…

"Logan didn't know, Jess; just as you suspected," Rory hurried to explain, turning in Jess's half-embrace to face him. His scrutiny made her knees turn to instant Jell-O again, but she wasn't a Gilmore for nothing and so she held his gaze once again, withstanding the urge to look away. "It's okay," she whispered so quietly that Logan couldn't hear her. "Logan's mom called and told him about the—the _situation_, the kidnapping. That Logan isn't the Huntzberger's child, that—"

"Yeah? Jess interrupted her, his eyes flickering with sudden anger at her betrayal.—Or was it worry? "Did she also tell you whose child he is, then?" he queried, loud enough for Logan to perk his head up with curiosity.

"You—you _know_?" he called out, incredulity and apprehension tingeing his words. Stepping forward, he involuntarily forced Jess to retreat into the kitchen, though Rory repeatedly tried to assure him that Logan posed no threat. (_Didn't_ he?)

Jess grinned humorlessly. "Yeah well, what if?"

"So who—can—can you tell me—"

"Stutter much, Huntzberger?"

"Jess!" Rory was slightly exasperated at hearing the sudden disdain in Jess's voice. With a glance up into his face, though, she noticed that a sick pallor had replaced the previous flush; and she took it to be an apt explanation of his sudden change in behavior. Whatever was going on in his mind then, it had nothing to do with rational thinking, nothing with what he might have tried to tell her earlier, might have believed earlier. Lightly, she cupped his cheek. She whispered his name again, forcing him to look at her. She had to make him sit down before his knees could give way, before he might pass out. Just as she had to remind him that Logan posed no threat—that _she_ posed no threat.

Because it was _Jess_ who was holding a gun in his hand…


	14. Chapter 14

The atmosphere felt loaded, stifling. But Rory had slipped into a curious calm. She was only aware of the little universe enclosing the three of them, Logan—situated somewhere on the periphery, Jess—standing right in front of her, and she. Her right hand still rested against the smooth skin of Jess's cheek as she lowered the other down to cover his hand, to cover the gun. Briefly, Rory saw confusion flit across Jess's face once their fingers touched over the steel. But gently, she moved forward, her mouth nearly touching his when she whispered, "It's okay now. It's over…" She looked at his lips, only then noticing his somewhat forced breathing before her gaze traveled farther up, to his eyes, and she tightened her grip around his hand, around the weapon. "Jess…"

He blinked once, twice, his confusion visibly deepening. "But…,"his sentence fell short of being completed as he wiped an arm across his forehead in a subconscious movement which gave away his agitation.

"You can let go now," Rory told him, meaning the gun.

"Careful, Rory! Look at him, he's obviously—"

"I got this, Logan." Closing her eyes briefly, she channeled all her remaining calm into what she was about to do. Then she opened them to Jess's piercing, feverish stare.

-o0o-

When Lorelai saw Luke slump down on a seat right next to her, she felt like a schoolgirl for one odd moment. Waiting to be sentenced to detention, her partner in crime right by her side. That her mother, her newly arrived father, as well as a gray-haired man she took to be "Sterling" were all currently engaged in some rather one-sided conversation with that poor old police officer only made the impression feel more real.

But the moment passed, and still Lorelai was sitting, and waiting, and trying to keep a growing sense of panic in check. Looking up to the Gorilla, she discovered traces of sympathy in the woman's scowl and managed a short-lived half-hearted smile.

"Your daughter is going to be okay."

A short laughing sound escaped her at the female officer's unexpected stab at empathy.

"I wish I had your conviction."

"Ma'am, I know what you think of Officer Hanlon, but he's one of the best policemen New York has. He'll find your daughter and bring her back unharmed."

Lorelai heard Luke snort beside her. "And how exactly is he going to accomplish that? _In here?_ "

"Sir."

"No," Lorelai chimed in. "He's right. If he's that good, why isn't he out there, searching for her, searching for Jess?"

"Ma'am—"

"Why is it that all he seems to be doing is standing there and telling us nothing? I'm her mother!"

"Lorelai…"

"Ms. Gilmore, of course you and Rory's father—"

"Oh my God, Christopher! Luke, I—Christopher doesn't even know, yet! He…" She looked frantic, her wide eyes burning with tears. She hadn't noticed she was crying until she felt Luke's hand on her back. But finally that simple touch was enough to make her come apart at the seams. "It's okay, Lorelai," her fiancé soothed with a gruff voice, "Your mother already called him.—He's on his way."

"How could I forget to call her father, Luke, how—," she sobbed, unable to continue speaking. Luke moved to wrap her shaking body in his strong embrace and shot a killing glance at the officer.

"Fantastic," he growled, "You made her cry. You have no idea what it means to make a Gilmore cry, Lady, do you?—Lorelai, come now. Lore-Lor—," sighing, Luke eventually gave up. Even when they were crying instead of talking it was hard to get a word in sideways with those Gilmore girls. With _his_ Gilmore girl in particular…

"I'm sorry, Mr. Danes," the Gorilla quietly yet firmly admitted. Bending down a little, she dared place a hand on Lorelai's arm. But Lorelai didn't turn to face her. "Ms. Gilmore… Officer Hanlon, he _is_ one of the best; maybe even _the_ best.—The reason he is not out there, Ms. Gilmore—Lorelai? He is the one planning and coordinating the entire search; he is the one who knows where to go looking for your daughter." With a nod to Luke she added, "For your nephew. Trust me, you wouldn't want anyone else on the case."

"What makes you so sure of that?"

"I know what Officer Hanlon is capable of, Mr. Danes. I had the honor to work with him right after 9/11. You wouldn't believe how much heart that man put into detecting even the tiniest traces of the lives lost that day.—Now imagine him searching for Rory and Jess—imagine him searching for someone he can still save…"

Her tear-streaked cheek leaving an imprint on her fiancé's checkered flannel shirt, Lorelai eventually did look up again at hearing that.

_Someone he can still save..._

-o0o-

Jess felt the curious sensation of coldness seeping into his palm just as warmth seemed to permeate into it from above where he felt Rory's skin touch his. Frowning, he ordered his mind to cooperate, but his thoughts were sluggish at best and the pain flaring up in his side didn't exactly help speeding up the process either. He had killed a man.

He. Had killed. A man. Suddenly, he felt himself start shaking, his fingers growing slack around the gun's steely form. Before he could drop the cursed object, though, Rory had swiftly extricated it from his grasp.

"Are you okay?" he muttered, worry tainting his features. He lifted his arms to cup her face, gently ran his fingers through her hair. She felt so real. And yet this had to be a dream. Some nightmare he was stuck in…

"Rory, watch out!" Logan cautioned from where he stood in the kitchen's doorway, far away enough as not be deemed a threat to either Rory or Jess. Rory ignored him, though. She only had eyes for Jess. Wrapping a hand around his waist, she tried to steady him.

"Why don't we sit down, huh? Jess? Come on."

"Rory…"

"You look awful. And I can't carry you if you decide to pass out on me, okay?" she stated soberly, which earned her a laugh. "No?" he queried as she glared at him. Quickly, he turned serious again, though, just as his body made the decision for him and he felt his knees grow weak. "Okay, maybe… just for a little while…" Rory tried to slow his downward movement. Strangely Jess let her and stared up at her all the while. Suddenly he noticed the young Huntzberger tower over them, but his mind refused to feel threatened. Logan was an okay kid after all, even though it would have made matters easier if he weren't.

It would have made so many things easier.

"Oh God, Jess, look at you. How the hell did you manage to sneak out of the hospital in this state?"

"A journalist's stealth?" He grinned. Blinking against the light coming in from the hallway, he tried to make out the expression on Logan's face, but couldn't see much.

"Jess."

"You tell me, Rory. You're the journalist, aren't you?"

He flinched as a new wave of pain shot through his body when he tried to sit up straighter. Rory shushed him, placing two warm hands on his chest. "Stay put, Jess."

"Rory—"

"Don't argue with me."

"Ro—"

"Jess. Can't you _not_ mess everything up? For once?"

"Girl," he eventually hissed out, annoyance getting the better of him. How could she still be so stubborn, so pigheaded, so… typically a Gilmore?

"Guys. We better leave. Rory, let me…" Suddenly, Jess saw Logan bending down, felt the guy's hands grab his arms in a tight grasp. "Come on, Jess. Help me a little here, okay?" A new wave of dizziness washed over him, enveloped his senses as he found himself being hoisted up off the ground and coming to lean against Logan's slightly taller frame.

"Dude, take your hands off of me," he warned, but the blonde merely scowled at him.

"Seriously, man?"

"Logan, I don't think he should be moved—"

"Rory, that man nearly killed you. _You_. Don't you think my dearest parents sent more than one man if this whole secret affair bothered them enough to want to get rid of any witnesses to begin with? This guy sure as hell did not work all by himself. And if he knew where to be looking for us—"

"Okay, okay, okay. I got it. Let's go then. Just…"

"What?" Logan stared at her intently, Jess growing heavy against him as both guys watched her fidgeting nervously. Eventually, with one last glance over her shoulder at her dead attacker, she whispered, "Just you mind his injury." She indicated Jess with a covert flick of her wrist, not daring to look Logan in the eyes—or Jess, either.

"Yeah," was all Logan managed. One sober affirmative before he slowly walked out of the kitchen, dragging Luke's nephew with him, one arm around the kid's waist, the other around his shoulders. "Come on. Let's get you out of here.—Mind telling me where you stashed that piece of info on my real parents, though?" The question sounded so casual, so matter-of-fact that it took Jess a moment to understand what Logan was trying to get at. Once realization set in, though, Jess was quick to say, "You sure you wanna know?"

"Am I sure? Hell, I'm not sure of anything—or anyone these days, okay? So…"

"Dude, chill. I wasn't trying to…," Jess stopped mid-sentence, not sure what he had wanted to say. He felt his arm get tired of holding onto Logan, felt his body give in to the pain. But he knew he had to fight it, knew he had to fight to stay conscious, for he couldn't possibly leave Rory stuck in this mess, now could he? This mess… Everything was so utterly and completely screwed. He was so screwed.

And Logan…

"Jess? Hey…" Her gentle voice wavered into his conscience from very far off. It took all of his strength to make his reluctant eyelids comply and allow him to stare at her. She smiled. Or did she?

"Rory."

"Ssh, Jess."

"Isn't it funny?" he slurred, unaware of the fact that he was merely remaining in a somewhat upright position because Logan was carrying all his weight. He lifted one tired arm to smooth the deep line of worry etched onto the pretty Gilmore's forehead. His thumb had barely touched her brow when her hand came to enclose his wrist. "Oh Jess."

"Come on, man, you're heavy. Let's get going before more of my parents' _friends_ show up here." Logan shot Rory a glance and indicated the apartment with a nod of his head. "Anything we should take with us? Aside from _you_?"

"Aw, that penchant for humor's running in the family after all, I guess," Jess murmured, a chuckle dying on his lips before it had had a chance to develop into any serious sign of amusement. "At least there's that then, huh, Log'? Some family resemblance, some…"

Screw being a journalist, he couldn't help thinking; for the truth sucked more times than not. At least with fiction you could bend things until you liked the outcome… Just as in fiction it was always the bad boy getting the good girl; and God, if Jess wasn't a sucker for overused clichés… (Hadn't he known he was screwed right from the start?) "You know how I found out about all this? You real parents?"

He missed the urgency in Rory's sudden warning to "shush" as he suddenly found himself being shoved into a closet. Logan's eyes bored into his, and Rory—Rory pressed her body against his. Once the door closed behind them, Jess heard her gasp. Then someone shouted. Shouted their names.

And when he felt his eyes close once more, when he felt Rory on his one side, and Logan on the other, he couldn't help but wonder whether maybe this time he wouldn't be able to open his eyes again to the beautiful reality of Rory's face bent over his, her nose brushing against his, and her lips…

… too bad…


	15. Chapter 15

… _Jess couldn't help but wonder whether maybe this time he wouldn't be able to open his eyes again to the beautiful reality of Rory's face bent over his, her nose brushing against his, and her lips…_

He felt warm and curiously comforted as they waited in the confined hiding space offered by the closet. The darkness, the way the doors muffled not only all sounds coming from outside, but even those from inside—their own breathing, the sound of the fabric of their clothes rustling against each other—all that made it feel as if he were enclosed by some kind of cocoon. They were all sitting, he realized, not standing. It had probably happened in that strangely unaccounted for moment between him thinking he might just be closing his eyes for the last time and waking up to Rory holding him in a tight embrace. Too tight, his injury let him know, but the closet was too small to allow him to adjust his position. Already, it was pretty cramped in there, and he wasn't sure he wouldn't accidently open the door should he only so much as move a leg.

At least it was Rory he sat pressed against. When he was at all to try and endure the pain, her closeness had at least some calming effect on him. (He didn't even want to consider the alternative. After all, there were three of them hiding in that darn cabinet…) He was so glad for her presence, although he couldn't exactly enjoy it. Because, as it was, they were not hiding out in a closet for nothing. He could hear people roaming through his things, tearing open cupboards, surely making a mess of his apartment.

He felt Rory's hand gently resting on the side of his head and was glad for that. It was weird, really, and he couldn't explain it, but there was some indefinable fear growing inside him—a fear that had nothing to do with those goons out there. It was something settled deeper than that, something way more frightening. Only Rory's being there seemed to make everything at least slightly more bearable. Still, it wasn't enough to completely quench his fear. He was so anxious for her touch, for her presence. He wouldn't have wanted to be alone, not with that fear, and the pain… Finally, though, his pain blanketed all else, making it impossible for him to think, to even know what he was doing.

Jess didn't even hear the small noise he made as his body succumbed completely.

-o0o-

"Sir, Ma'am." Lorelai, who had been sitting with her head resting in her hands, looked up into the eyes of the old police officer, Hanlon. A warm smile spread on his face as their gazes locked. Lorelai thought that he was actually looking quite hopeful. That new expression softened his features enough to make her realize that the Officer must once have been a very handsome man. Luke had already sprung to his feet before she followed his example, both worried adults now slightly towering over the smaller man in front of them.

"Officer! Have you found them?"

"Is Rory—are she and Jess all right?"

Hanlon made a calming gesture with both hands and beckoned the two worried people in front of him to sit down again. "Ms. Gilmore, Mr. Danes, let me just inform you that we finally got a lead—"

"You found them?" "What kind of lead—where are they? What—" "I want to come with you; I need—"

"Please," the officer begged. He motioned for one of his colleagues to bring them something to drink—if the two had something to occupy their hands with he was sure it would help all of them in the long run. Then he elaborated on his previous statement, telling both Luke and Lorelai about the call they had received from one of Jess's neighbors, stating that there seemed to be something curious going on. Apparently a bunch of people had broken their way into the Mariano apartment. The commotion (Officer Hanlon didn't yet want to mention the reported shooting noise) had then led Jess's neighbors to assume that it had to be a burglary.

"You mean to tell us they might be there?" Luke queried, accepting a proffered coffee only to hand it on to his fiancée, who was now balancing not one but two steaming cups in her hands. Neither of them seemed to notice anything odd about it, though, and with a sigh, Hanlon continued. "I mean, there are certain details which in their sum hint at the possibility that they might be hiding out there, yes."

Quite readily, Luke shook his head. "No. That would be the first place those—Jess's opponents would go looking for them. My nephew is not stupid, Officer, he'd never go there if—"

"Mr. Danes, nothing is confirmed, yet. I simply wanted to inform you about the current direction our investigations are pointing toward. And that also means we have to take into account the possibility that your daughter and your nephew might have gone to Jess Mariano's apartment."

"Luke is right, though. Officer, Rory—"

"Ms. Gilmore. This is all I can tell you for now. Let's not speculate about what is and what isn't probable. Unfortunately, with crimes logic and probability are often not leading us anywhere. Therefore, I suggest we wait until we hear from our team out there again. Until then..."

"But—"

"You have to do more! We can't just wait here. In the meantime those—those bastards might already—" The quiet touch of Lorelai's hand on Luke's arm made him fall silent with a loud "humph." Eyeing her briefly, he let his head droop, running both hands over his cap in agitation. Officer Hanlon suspected that the mother had stopped him only because she couldn't bear the words the man had been about to say. She wasn't ready for a verbalization of her greatest fear. Something told him, though, that usually it was rather the other way around. She seemed to be the incessant talker-type, while he seemed to be what he liked to dub the "typical male"… He frowned in sympathy before eventually bridging the renewed silence with a standard "You can't do anything out there. All you can do is stay calm and wait here." It was peculiar, really, how after all those years in the job, it were still those overused, cliché-fulfilling words that seemed to both enrage and calm the people he dealt with the most. As if they _needed_ to hear him say them. "I'm sure your daughter and nephew will come out of this all right, and then they'll need you. They'll need you to be calm because they might not be. Do you think you can manage that?" He smiled at them kindly once more. He had made sure that his voice sounded firm and insisting and that it broadcasted a strong sense of confidence, assurance. When both the woman and the man had nodded their quiet consent, he continued, "Good. And whatever I can do to help with that, I will, trust me. As soon as I have an update, I'll let you know. Ma'am, Sir? We will find them. Please excuse me now."

With a last nod in their general direction he turned around and grabbed the radio offered to him by one of his team. "Any news?" he asked quietly as he headed toward the older couple waiting with Sterling, whose use with all that he had yet to discover. There probably was none. But that was typical of Sterling and his well-off friends who thought they could rush things if only they asked him to use 'some of his old contacts.' Hanlon rolled his eyes. Then he composed his outward appearance. Those people would never understand that you couldn't make things go away if only you had enough money. He was not stupid enough to mention it in Sterling's presence, though.

He had already gotten the three people's attention, when suddenly his radio sprang to life and saved him from having to talk to them. Right on time.

"Sir, we're going to enter the apartment now. We're asking for radio silence," a disembodied voice informed him. But before silence had even had time to set in, the sounds of shooting echoed through the radio.

-o0o-

Rory heard the shooting at the same time that Jess's body went slack in her arms. The shots had blanketed his cry of pain, but she had felt it escape his lungs anyway. When she tried to reposition him in her arms, she was shocked to find her hands come away sticky with blood once again. In panic, she glanced over to where Logan was sitting, hugging his knees so as to make himself as small as he could. She saw him mouth her name, saw fear in his eyes, too. Someone was shooting. What did it mean? Had the police arrived? Were they responsible for the shots, or was it the others? Suddenly, there were too many things to panic about. What if the closet would be opened now, in the middle of a full-on shoot-out? What if a stray bullet penetrated the doors and struck one of them? What if Jess was already dying in her arms while she was sitting here doing nothing but allow panic to paralyze her?

"Logan," she finally whispered, holding his gaze, pleading with him to do something; she didn't know what. "Logan…" He shushed her, but was on his way to unfold his limbs anyway. He must have sensed her agitation after all, and she was grateful for that. When he moved to open the door, though, she stifled a cry of "No" and shook her head vehemently. He cupped her face then, smiled briefly, and opened the door a little anyway.

In expectation of an ensuing catastrophe, of the sounds of shooting growing louder, closer, of seeing Logan being shot to pieces and Jess bleeding out his life in her lap, she closed her eyes and tightened her hold on Jess yet a little more. But all she heard was a sudden white silence. And Jess's steady breathing.

It was over.

With one look into Jess's troubled face, she made sure he was still with her. Rory was relieved to find him stare back at her out of wide feverish eyes all of a sudden. She had difficulties tearing her eyes away from him to look for Logan as well as the police. As if Jess might close his eyes just because she was no longer gazing down on him.

In the distance, strangely far off, she heard someone call her name. She noticed a look of utter shock on Logan's drawn face. She saw a young police officer kneeling down in front of her, saw the woman's lips move. But she didn't hear her words. She only heard Jess's barely audible whisper, "We suck at the whole uncomplicated romance thing, Rory Gilmore." Staring down at his own bloodied fingers, the huge stain on his shirt, he added somewhat disappointedly, "Aw, too bad.—Well, I guess I never was an 'artful' dodger to begin with, huh?"

Rory smiled weakly.

-o0o-

Uncountable minutes later, maybe even an hour, they couldn't tell and didn't care, Logan and Rory found each other outside of Jess's apartment, waiting as Jess was about to be carted off to the hospital for a second time in only a day. Rory couldn't help but hold on to his hand. She didn't dare loosen her grip on him for fear that this time, she really might lose him for good. He looked so pale, so tired. He could barely keep his eyes open, and yet he didn't listen when she told him to relax, to close his eyes and rest a little while. Instead, he suddenly shifted his focus from her face to Logan's, and whispered,

"You still sure you wanna know?"

Logan stared down at him, bewildered. "You mean, about my parents? Your 'story?'"

Jess nodded briefly, the small movement straining him enough to make him close his eyes for a moment. "Jess," Rory implored him quietly, tightening her grip on his hand and sweeping strands of sweaty hair out of his face. "Take it easy."

"That article…"

"Listen, dude, we can talk about this later. You should rest now; listen to Rory. And I'll take care of Mitchum and Shira, okay?" Logan said and was about to give the kid—and reluctantly Rory, too—some space, when he heard Jess breathe,

"It's DuGray."

"Excuse me?"

"They're a pretty wealthy local clan, too," Jess slurred, no longer quite aware what he was talking about, or who he was talking to. Staring into Rory's face instead of Logan's he continued, "So, no worries, your boyfriend will still belong to one of the best and most influential families in the vicinity. Your grandma will be so pleased… Huh, Gilmore?"

Rory could only stare at him, then at Logan. Already she found herself looking for some resemblance previously unnoticed by the unknowing eye.

Logan, a DuGray?

As in _Tristin_ _DuGray_?


	16. Chapter 16

-o0o-

_DuGray… Logan—DuGray?_

Logan frowned, not quite understanding. Jess sighed. He had to say it again. He had to destroy the guy's life once again. He had to confirm his previous statement as true by repeating it, fleshing it out until it lost all potential of being a misinterpretation.

"Your real parents are the DuGrays. Local people, wealthy. I'm guessing you've heard of them?" Jess coughed. It was a raspy sound, sounding dangerously close to choking. He looked at Rory. "Didn't you once tell me about that guy, Tristin's strict parents, Rory? That military school or wherever you told me he got sent… All that; they were over-protecting him. They were traumatized after the loss of their older child. So who could blame them for being extra-careful with their next son?"

That sure would explain a lot, Rory thought. It _did_ explain a lot. Tristin's parents had tried everything so as not to lose another child. They had put him on a leash; he had rebelled. Suddenly, a bigger picture unfolded in Rory's mind, enabling her to put everything in a new perspective.

"But why…" Logan faltered. Helplessly, he was looking from Jess to Rory. She couldn't help but feel for him. With his shoulders sagging, he stood there, his bewilderment evident, painful to watch. "I mean, how did you… How did you find out about all this? And—and"

Jess grinned a bloody grin, when a police officer walked over to the small group again and put a hand on both Logan's and Rory's shoulders. "You kids should give your friend some rest, okay? You can talk later. Why don't you two come with me, and we'll call your parents, huh? How's that sound?"

Logan's resulting dry laughter scared Rory, but she didn't say anything. She argued with herself whether she should take his hand, give him some comfort that way; yet she couldn't bring herself to do so. Instead, she hefted her gaze onto Jess's face again. She was too worried to smile, but he did.

"It's alright, Gilmore," he whispered. "You'll be fine…"

Rory was staring down at Jess, her expression inscrutable. Yet he could always read so much in that pretty face. Disbelief, anger, sorrow. "_I_'ll be fine?"

And an all encompassing darkness…

-o0o-

Rory felt as if cotton was clotting her ears. She couldn't think. She could barely move. All she could do was watch the paramedics attending to Luke's nephew, and Logan standing and staring into nothingness. Eventually a policeman's voice entered her conscience, "The coroner just confirmed the man dead, Sir."

The man dead… No, Rory, thought; the man was dead. The man Jess had shot in order to protect her, he was dead. "Oh God," she exclaimed, grabbing Logan's arm unconsciously. Her eyes wide with fear, she stared up at him. "He's dead; the police will—"

"I'll take care of it," Logan said, slowly shoving Rory to the side. Briefly she wondered how he could still be functioning under the circumstances.

"But, Logan!" she called, digging her fingers deeper into his arm. Stopping in his tracks, he smiled down on her. Rory could detect the pain behind that expression, the deep hurt, and she made to touch his cheek. But Logan stalled her movement. "Don't, Rory," he said firmly, though not unkindly.

She held his gaze, inhaling through her nose in order to slow her breathing. If she had survived the episode in the closet, she wasn't about to panic now, afterward, was she? "Jess," she began, "has been in some difficulties before." It felt like she were admitting to her own problems with the law, not his. "If they find out that he…

"It was an act of self-defense, Rory. Nobody is going to press any charges." Good old Logan, he could be so reassuringly calm and rational if a situation demanded it. And this one did. To Rory it did, as finally the events of the previous night were catching up with her for real. She grabbed Logan's jacket lapels, closing her fingers into tight fists. She breathed in and out a couple times, before she knew she could look at him again. Unable to suppress a growing tremor in her voice, she said, "Jess shot this guy. The police will have to investigate his death. They'll interview him. He shot a man, Logan, I can't even begin to imagine what this might do to him. But—having to talk about it, reliving it all, recounting it…"

"I know, Rory. But it's going to be okay, you hear? It's going to be okay."

"But, Logan, I'm not sure _Jess_ will be!" She stared up at him, suddenly feeling strangely shy as she amended, "Be okay, I mean." Frowning in thought, Rory took a deep intake of breath. "Look, Jess—he has been through so much; and I know you don't like him, but he is my friend; and I love him. Logan, you don't know him the way I do. You probably believe this whole tough guy attitude is the real Jess. But it's not. That he shot this guy? I don't know how well he's going to take that; I really don't. He's so… he's just way more vulnerable than you might think. I'm so worried the police might make it all worse by…," Rory's voice died in a whisper of air as she noticed the change in Logan's expression. It was the way he stared at her that had made Rory fall silent. All at once, his previous frown had been replaced by a strange look of understanding, or was it resignation? Maybe she was only imagining it, but she couldn't quite believe that. As the quiet sound of a soft and sad chuckle jolted Rory from her thoughts, her gaze met Logan's again. She sighed.

His voice was barely above a whisper, as he asked, "So, after all this time you still care about him so much?" He looked down at her and Rory held his gaze.

She could say, 'I don't know; _care_ about him? That's maybe taking it a bit far.—I'm worried about, of course. I mean, we're… friends, so, yeah, I'm… _worried_. I guess…' or she could get offended. She could shout, 'What's wrong about that? Jess is my friend. It's what friends do; they care about each other. He is my _friend_.' Or a bit more dramatic, 'After all that happened tonight, you ask me a stupid question like that? Of course I do. Of course I care about my friend, who has been shot because of your messed up family. Of course I care about him and worry whether he will come out of it all right. Of course I care!'

What she did say, was nothing. Rory only let her head droop eventually, and fixed her gaze on a spot on her left shoe until her vision swam and there was no longer a spot to focus on.

When she lifted her head again, she noticed the young Huntzberger—who was no longer a Huntzberger but a DuGray—nod. He briefly pressed his lips together tightly, before he finally addressed her again. "Thanks for not lying to me, Rory. Actually, thanks for not saying anything at all.—Don't worry, I'll tell them it was me, okay? Then Mariano won't have to ever speak of it again if he chooses not to."

"Logan, no. You can't do that. I… I never meant for you to lie; for any of us. And you can't take the blame for something you didn't do!"

"Can't I?" Seeing Logan grin so sadly and knowing that he, too, had been through a lot during the last twenty-four hours, it panged Rory. Yet, she couldn't think of anything to say. One of Jess's snarky comments would have been welcome now, or Luke's pragmatism. But Jess was finally being carted off to the hospital. And Luke was unavailable.

Rory pressed her lips together, unable to say anything.

-o0o-

Ever felt like your whole life was nothing but a story? Up until the recent events Jess would have answered that particular question in the negative. Now though? Now he woke up to find out that his life's story even had its very own freakin' interstices. Blank spots forced his sluggish mind to come up with an interpretation of what had—supposedly—happened. (_Of course. Could a Jess Mariano story ever be a sweet and simple thing, mapping out everything with perfect clarity? Exactly…_). First, everything was only a blur. _"…I mean, my mom—you know what she's like. I guess the two of you simply…"_ Then his eyes began to adjust. Jess's mind gradually followed. _"…no real chance afterward, no matter what I said…"_ A sonorous whisper of words was filtering into his ears as he realized he was lying in a hospital bed. Wait, he thought, bewilderment setting in, before his mind had had any real time to become less clouded, less sluggish. There was something missing. How did he get there? What about the shooting, what had happened? He blinked and tried to turn his head a little, to take in this sudden change of events. _"…can't leave me, Jess. Not now…"_ They had hooked him up to an IV drip, which at least didn't seem too surprising since they had previously done that. _"…feelings are all muddled up because of this. I mean, should I even be feeling like this? About you? Maybe I'm not even really feeling what I think I feel. Maybe it's just because of the whole..."_

Something was different than last time, though. For a moment it was all that mattered: the pretty brunette sitting by his side. Instead of his unlce, this time it was Rory Gilmore keeping him company.

"…_I could never say any of this to you before—I don't know, maybe I was scared? You…" _Jess still had difficulties interpreting her words, making any sense of what she was telling him—or telling a presumed unconscious version of him. _"…get hurt again?_" He should probably draw attention to his having regained consciousness. But listening to her talk enthralled him strangely. _"Now everything is so messed up. Logan… is actually a DuGray, can you believe that? I mean; wow, that would make him Tristin's brother. I wonder how those two will get along…" _Rory was laughing a short, humorless laugh, her hand around Jess's tightening. He tried to speak up, then. But his tongue refused its service. _"It figures, don't you think? All of this: my boyfriend—or ex-boyfriend or whatever—is a DuGray It's not like there aren't some resemblances between him and Tristin—once you know about their actually being related. Still… God, Logan's going to need someone helping him sort out everything. I should really be there for him and—and… Yet I don't think I can do it… I don't…"_

"Rory?" Jess eventually managed to whisper, but it was not much more than a breath, inaudible to the addressee. Still oblivious to him being conscious, the young Gilmore went on, "_I mean, with you I've always known who you are. Of course you had the whole 'mysterious, haunted' teenager routine going for you. But I could see through that."_

Rory was holding Jess's hand, absentmindedly stroking his fingers with her thumb. It seemed to be such a natural thing for her to do. He didn't in the least consider it awkward, and yet he couldn't quite believe that it was happening. Rory Gilmore was sitting there, waiting for him to wake up. She was holding his hand in hers. It was an incredibly small detail in relation to the jumble of events of the previous twenty-four odd hours. Yet in that very moment, Jess didn't think about any of that. He didn't think about his ordeal, or the story research that had brought all of it about. He didn't think about the man he had shot, or about what might be the consequences of that deed. For a few seconds he simply couldn't think of those things, because he had just gotten his very own love story cliché moment…

It felt so incredibly good.

He could have gone on listening to her whisper, but she turned her head eventually. She was in the middle of saying, "..guess I've never really stopped loving you…" when she finally noticed that he was awake. Weakly, Jess smiled, though a part of him was suddenly incongruously worried that she might pull her hand away now that she knew he was conscious. But she didn't. She kept holding onto his hand, squeezed it briefly, and smiled. Her cheeks suddenly flushed a bright red, as she stuttered, "Jess! You're—you—thank God you're awake!"

"Hey, Rory…"

Nervously, Rory swept a few strands of dark wavy hair out of her face and tucked them behind her ear. A displacement activity, Jess thought. He couldn't help smiling.

"You're awake."

"Yuh."

"You—have been… awake all the time?"

"Not all the time…"

"Long enough to hear me basically confess all my jumbled feelings for y—… Oh. My. God, I…"

"Rory…"

"I should call a nurse. I'm sure a doctor has to check in on you, I—"

With as much vehemence as he could muster, Jess hissed out her name once more. "Rory."

She looked down at him, frowning. With one hand she made to touch his cheek, but he tried to stop her, unsuccessfully. "You scared me, Jess Mariano."

Yeah, he thought. Scared myself there, for a moment. "I'm sorry. Rory…"

"Shh," she whispered, noticing how talking seemed to strain his strength. "Don't talk now, Jess."

"But… About that article, about Logan's family…"

"We can talk about that tomorrow."

There they were again, the blank spaces, clotting up, blocking out so much… He wanted to give the Huntzberger kid some closure, wanted to tell Logan why and how he had unearthed that family's secret. He wanted to tell Rory what had lent him the strength to escape. He wanted to tell her what it had been like, being captured, being mishandled, fearing for his life. He wanted to tell her what had made him hang in. He wanted to tell her what had made him call her of all people, once he had managed to escape. Too many interstices didn't help increase a story's quality. You had to use them thoughtfully after all, right? Don't tell too much, don't tell too little…

"We will talk tomorrow," Jess heard Rory whisper again. It sounded like a gentle sing-song lulling him to sleep. Wide-eyed, he stared up at her, into her beautiful face. _(Don't tell too much…)_

With an effort, he lifted his arm, touched her face with his hand, held it. He smiled. _(Don't tell too little…)_

"Glad I called you, Rory Gilmore…"

"I'm glad you called me, Jess Mariano…"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Well, then I'm guessing your world was in need of being unhinged after all, huh, Gilmore?"

"You're delirious, Jess. It's okay… A nurse is on the way; you'll be alright."

"I know. You're here."

His smile wavered as sleep was tugging at his conscience again. He felt Rory's gentle touch on his forehead, felt her fingers entwine with his. _(If he were at all a fan of cliché-ridden stories—and hell, so what if he was?—he would have used that as a great sappy metaphor, their fingers entwining, just like their lives…)_

"And not going anywhere, okay? Just you sleep now, and we'll talk tomorrow."

"Glad I called you…"

"I know, Jess."

"I was worried you wouldn't—you mightn't…"

"Ssh…"

"It's just… I love you, Rory Gilmore…"

He felt the soft warmth of Rory's lips on his before he finally fell asleep again. All worries, all pain were blanketed by sleep, and the knowledge of her being there with him. Tomorrow they could talk.

Tomorrow their story would continue…

-o0o-

* * *

_This is where we'll leave these two for now. What happens next? I'll leave that to your imagination… _

_Thank you everyone for your great and helpful input. This is for you; you kept me going._**  
**


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